


The Cockblocking Archimedes

by PoffinPuff



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Male Slash, No Smut, Red Oktoberfest, Romantic Comedy, bird drama, fluff?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7436492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoffinPuff/pseuds/PoffinPuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archimedes loves his brilliant owner, Dr. Wenzel Blaustein. He might even admit that he was a bit possessive. One day, the Doctor joins a group of hired mercenaries called RED, and must fight a war against a team called BLU. It hardly bothered the dove until he noticed something.<br/>That large bald man kept eyeing his Doctor; he takes any opportunity to spend time with Wenzel.<br/>It occurs to Archimedes that this man is also in love with the Doctor!<br/>He's trying to take his Doctor away!</p><p>If this man though it'd be easy to win his Medic's love, then he's got another thing coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Fairly safe and is romcom, but will have cursing here and there. Also, slash pairing so if you're not into that, then you know the drill. This will be my first fic on this site, as well as my first Heavy medic, so criticisms are welcomed.

Everything was a pristine, marvelous white. Elegant draperies were being hung on massive clerestory windows. Rows of chairs and tables being set up and a screaming soon-to-be german bride was commanding the poor workers. 

The bride, named Alva, switched from being angry at the ‘inadequate’ ice sculpture to bombarding if the wedding doves were prepared. A portly birdkeeper nodded and gestured fearfully to the truck outside that provided a spacious area for the mentioned creatures. 

More than a dozen of sleek, white doves chirped and peeped at one another, awaiting to do their tasks from inside the makeshift aviary. Except for one dove. One, simple little dove stared outside and at the large church. It appeared to be in thought, wondering if there was more to life than being driven to countless, repetitive weddings. Was it even worth it? It seemed like weddings either involved people who hated each other or people that loved each other- which later led to hating each other. The young bird shook its head. 

The dove turned its attention to the bride. Shiny blonde hair and a flowery summer dress. Ironic that this Alva woman was so beautiful, yet created the most ear-bleeding, cringiest screams that the dove had ever heard his entire life. 

The doves were very curious, and one of them was able to chirp to the others that this woman is insane. Apparently, she’s trying to marry some rich man in order to get back at her ex-husband. Humans are so emotional. 

Fast forward into the afternoon, and the guests have begun to enter. The doves were well rested, fed, cleaned, and ready to take off on cue once the truck moved to the front of the church. From there, the birds will hear the church bells, fly into the church, and through the open windows above the married couple. During the wait, their caretaker- Herr Bauer- sat in the driver's seat, counting his earnings for the weddings use of his birds.

The white, fluffy doves chatted amongst themselves casually. However, our main bird of focus was stiff and silent. He could hear the sound of a human outside. It sounded like another man, one he never heard before. The moment their caretaker screamed, all the birds silenced. 

Our main bird was the first to move, and fluttered to the front of their makeshift aviary. He looked through the bars and saw Herr Bauer leaning on the steering wheel, sleeping. A trickle of red seeped from the folds on his neck. That’s odd. Sure he was large, but not lazy. 

The rest of the birds began fluttering around wildly, panicked from the change of atmosphere. But not our bird. He kept looking on curiously. He could care less about the man; he was only useful for giving him and his flock food. Herr Bauer was then grabbed and pulled out of the truck. He fell unconsciously to the ground. 

A new man sat on the driver’s seat. He was giggling and placed a tainted syringe and a large suitcase on the passenger seat. The walkie that was placed in the cup holder announced to Herr Bauer that in less than a minute, he must release the birds. This new man took the walkie and spoke quickly in return that he was ready. The man was lucky his voice was high pitched just like their irrelevant, dead caretaker. 

As the man began backing up the truck and steering it to the front, the little dove observed the features of this man. Judging from experience, he was perhaps in his late 20’s. He had soft, black pompadour hair that looked like a wonderful nest to sleep on, and large gray blue eyes. He was quite slim, but his broad shoulders and well angled face enhanced his masculinity. Overall, he was much more appealing to the eye then that old Bauer. 

He kept chuckling to himself, with the occasional hiccup, obviously preparing to do something crazy. He magically pulled out a large bottle of wine (that was halfway finished), took a long gulp, and threw it out the window. The flush on his cheeks became a wee bit brighter. 

“Ich flippe gleich aus...*” warned/slurred the man over his shoulder to the confused birds, eyes hazy and blinking to stay focused. The walkie told Bauer to release the birds. The drunkard did the contrary and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The truck suddenly sped directly towards the church. All the doves were somehow able to cling to the dangling toys in the aviary and mentally brace themselves, whilst the sole dove in the front wrapped his claws around the fence separating the aviary to the driver. 

“Oktoberfeeeeest du Hurensohn**!!!!!” screeched the man horsley; throwing his head back as he crashed through the double doors. Screams erupted as the guests ran to the walls to dodge the oncoming truck. Said vehicle raced down the daisy covered aisle and in the blink of an eye, proceeded to ram through the next wall that was in front of the fleeing married couple, destroying the stage and the clerestory. 

Alva watched the truck disappear through the wall, at a complete loss at what just happened. However, right when she was about to start screaming, the aviary truck beeped and slowly began to awkwardly reverse into the wall it had broken down. As the truck reached the center of the church (again), the man randomly spun the wheel and crashed into the wedding cake and table full of presents, creating a third hole in the prestigious church. 

Alva gasped and stood back on her feet, gaping at the sight of her former beloved. The black haired man turned to look at her and waved daintily at her direction. 

“Wenzel! Spinnst du oder was!?!***” roared Alva, face turned red, eyes bloodshot and wide.

Wenzel, in response, stuck his middle finger at the woman, and created his fourth and (hopefully) final wall as he ran over the ice sculpture of two dolphins morphing into a heart that Alva was keen on. 

Wenzel drove on aimlessly, hollering with laughter and driving until the sun had set. He miraculously escaped the dozens of police going after him (he was a pretty good driver when drunk, or it’s likely the cops realized that pursuing him would be a suicide mission). He drove out of his city in Stuttgart and after an eerie moment of silence, halted the truck and into a random parking lot in Karlsruhe. 

The young man dropped his hands from the steering wheel, knuckles somewhat numb for being in the same, tightened position for who knows how long. He releases a shaky sigh and lets his head hang. 

Honestly, in a few more years he’ll be reaching 30, and here he is acting out like some teenager. It had been such a long time since he’d done anything so rambunctious. Unless you count the involvement of illegal medical practices and activity within black markets (he feels even more disturbed than usual ever since the war). It’s rambunctiousness in relation to emotion, he supposed. He couldn’t help it. He hated Alva, but despite the woman being faithless, she was his first love. Love. Such an idiotic notion. He never truly believed in love, but thought for a short period that it was possible with her…

Wenzel jumped in his seat at a particularly loud coo. He turned and was stunned to forget that he had stolen a truck full of 20-something wedding doves while drunk. 

One in particular stuck out to him. While all the birds cooed softly in the back, the smallest of them all seemed to stay put right behind him. Wenzel opened the tiny window separating him and the birds, and the tiny dove clumsily flapped through it. Wenzel watched the dove settle on the armchair of the passenger seat, cocking his head at the bloodied syringe. The rest of the doves seemed to settle down, but were still acting quirky. 

The young man realized that they must be hungry. He began searching through some compartments and eventually found a large, worn out sack of bird food. Wenzel got out, landed on his face, stood back up, and walked to the back of the truck with keys and food in hand. He unlocked the clasp, closed behind him, and began unlocking the second door; it was part of the fenced area that the birds stayed in, to make sure they didn’t escape.

Wenzel entered the aviary, noticing quickly that the birds become skittish again, flapping away from him. Aware that he was intruding, Wenzel quickly began filling all the bowls with food. He took a quick check at the water, found it to be clean, and promptly left. 

He entered the driver’s seat again, surprised at the dove who remained perched on the passenger seat. Except now he had tiny, slightly pink blotches on his belly. Wenzel worried that the bird had injured itself with the needle. He reached his hand out but the bird screamed and threatened to bite him. Perhaps he was playing with the blood? That was… odd. Luckily, the bird didn’t seem in pain, but was now riled up. 

Wenzel recalled seeing a tiny bag of millet somewhere while searching for bird food. He reached back to the same compartment and found the half filled back of stems. 

Wenzel pulled one out and held it in front of the dove’s face. The dove hissed and bit at the protruding object. However, it was able to nibble some of the millet. The bird slowly inched towards the millet, took another bite, and from there was comfortable enough to eat. He was easy to impress, it seems.

Wenzel held the millet over his free hand, and cracked a smile as the little bird wobbled onto his palm. He gently hovered the bird and millet over his lap, watching with ease at the bird cracking the seeds with its beak. It was oddly soothing. 

Admittedly, Wenzel always wanted a pet, but never knew what kind he liked. He felt neutral towards dogs, but were often loud and hyperactive. Cats were the opposite and Wenzel personally believed that they were soulless. 

Surprisingly, he found himself quite fond of the dove. He’ll even admit that they were adorable, which was something he’d never think aloud to himself. Said dove even paused mid way of eating to stare at Wenzel. He melted and awed at the tiny bird’s big red eyes. It was too precious. 

Little did Wenzel know, our young dove felt the same way. It adored the skeptical, rash, yet warm young man. He had done far more than their caretaker ever did to excite him, that’s for sure. And he was giving him all the millet he could eat! As well as let him play in the fun puddle of red!  


Wenzel wondered if he wanted to take all the birds. It would be a lot of responsibility to care for so many birds, and he already began preparations to leave Germany all together. It would be easier if he’d just take the dove that was currently on his hand, but knew that he’d feel guilty for separating him with his flock. 

Wenzel blinked back to reality, and looked down. The little dove had tucked itself into a large, fluffy ball while perched on his knuckles. He looked over his shoulder to see the rest of the doves the same way. The man sighed and slumped forward; the movement causing the little dove to peep softly. They’re too cute. 

That’s it. He couldn’t resist. He’s taking all of them with him and wouldn’t give a damn what anyone thought, and it's not the alcohol talking...well it might be. 

 

0000000

 

*I’m about to flip out...  
**Oktoberfest you son of a bitch!  
*** Are you fucking nuts!?!


	2. First meeting

Wenzel gave one last tug to secure his tie. He sighs, adjusting his glasses, and looking at the tall mirror on the side of his bedroom wall. His long, white lab coat tidy and dignified. Black combat boots thick and reflecting the lights above his head. Red, medical gloves firm and shiny. He was set. 

A gently coo was heard, and Wenzel smiled. He turned around to see Archimedes perched on the head of Wenzel’s bed. The German walked over and gently brushed the bird’s back. The dove leaned in pleasantly, lifting its claws up to wrap around Wenzel’s index finger.

“Nien Archimedes, you will stay here with your brother’s and sister's, ja?” he lectured. Archimedes gazed at the man. He didn’t know what he said, but judging from the tone of voice, he was not going to be carried. That bothered Archimedes; he loved sitting on those long, bony fingers and petted early in the morning for precisely 5 to 10 minutes. He was a bird of standards. 

Wenzel knew this, and extended his index finger. Archimedes immediately perched onto his gloved hand, letting out another content coo. The Medic left his small bedroom, which was connected to his silvery, bleached medical lab. The rest of the Medic’s doves were perched very high thanks to thick wires and some shelves that Wenzel made for them. Wenzel placed Archimedes on the chair next to his desk, and patted the bird.

“Stay with them for today,” said Wenzel a bit sterner. Archimedes replies with a coo, flapping towards the Medic’s chest. Wenzel quickly caught the birds and sighed in defeat.

“If you get poop on me then you will have no treats for today...” he warned the bird. The dove simply tilted its head, but was happy to just be spending time with the Medic this morning. He was the most important bird, and was required time with Wenzel exclusively. 

The Medic left his lab, Archimedes perched on his shoulder. The tall man walked around the RED base to familiarize himself with it. He took note of the kitchen and supply room, showers, and both the indoor and outdoor training areas. However, the first meeting for RED was meant to take place in an intelligence room. Wenzel had no idea where that was. Perhaps, thanks to waking up early, he could find the room before the meeting took place. If only he could ask someone for directions. 

He was also aware that he was awake much earlier than the rest. Even though he hadn’t properly met the rest of the team, he knew from the loud cursing and explosions made (while settling in last night) that his comrades must be quite ‘pleasant’. For now, he was enjoying the current silence around the base. 

“MOVE MAGGOT! TEN - HUT.”

A helmet - wearing man kicked the front doors open, sweating from the searing heat of the outdoors. His wife beater was doused in perspiration, and boots caked with mud. He looked no older than Wenzel himself, but had a larger frame; barrel chested and brimming with manhood. He jogged towards the Medic, lips knitted and hinting of anger. He stopped in front of Wenzel, and a pregnant pause filled the air between them. Archimedes cooed, which prompted the man to speak. 

“I DO NOT SEE YOU BLEEDING WITH GLORY FOR OUR AMERICAN SOIL PRIVATE.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, cupcake. We are at WAR here! And the first man I see is some frail little sally wondering when her prince charming is gonna swoop in! Well guess WHAT pal; your prince is DEAD. He slipped on a puddle of water, broke his toothpick spine, and DIED a humiliating death- and now you must fend for yourself! Or else you’ll be eaten alive by the worms below our feet.”

“So... you…?”

“MUST I REPEAT MYSELF”

“Nien, danke,” Wenzel waved dismissively. He made plans in his head to give this soldier some medications. “I apologise for not...bleeding for America, comrade. I will play the national anthem two hundred times when I go to sleep tonight.”

“...Very well. But make it 300 private! And watch your back. There are non-americans all around us. Those commie russians and Nazi’s are among us Sally…”

“I will,” muttered Wenzel with his thick german accent. This man was insane and stupid. Combine the two with guns, and it was clear the Medic should avoid the man. 

“Und I am NOT Sally. I ask that you refer to me as the Medic, Herr Soldier,” stated Wenzel formally, noticing the class emblem on the Soldier’s shoulder. The Soldier was about to chastise the Medic for going above his authority, but silenced, grinned, and replied to the Medic. 

“Well it’s good to meet ya Doc. I am the man who will ensure the team that George Washington gives us his blessings on the battlefield! Make sure to watch my back, and keep me alive! That is an order. Heal us with whatever magic you can Doc.”

“While I won’t be using magic, I can assure you the best of my abilities,” agreed Wenzel. Another thought popped into his head. “Actually, Soldier, perhaps you can help me. I am trying to find where the meeting room is, may you help me find it?”  
“I do not agree with you lack of knowledge regarding the who's, whats, and where’s Medic! But I will give you mercy and take you there myself. Make sure to keep you eyes peeled and remember, for if you forget again next time, I will provide nothing but my American ass being uncooperative! Do I make myself clear, Private?”

Wenzel nodded, and sighed as the Soldier rambled on again. Luckily, he walked while explaining whatever nonsense he spouted. Archimedes, during the Medic and Soldier’s conversation, watched back and forth, occasionally confused. The man was too loud, but his helmet was interesting. Archimedes would love to make a nest in it, with pieces of human tissues as his pillow. 

Turns out the meeting room was not difficult to find. It was basically descending to the lowest level of their base, and was the last door down a somewhat dark hallway. When the Medic entered, there were 4 other men already there. The Soldier strode briskly to the corner of the room, arms to sides and feet together, just like...well a Soldier. Archimedes looked directly at the new faces. 

One man, to the far left, wore a yellow construction helmet, safety goggles, overalls, and the emblem of the class Engineer. His toolbox sat on the table in front of him, as well as an open beer bottle. He casually strummed notes on his acoustic, and when Wenzel entered, he looked up and tipped his helmet in greeting. Archimedes cooed at the pretty sounds the guitar made; a nice contrast to the deafening voice of the Soldier. 

Sitting next to him was another man wearing a gas mask and rubbery body suit. He (or she) sat slumped over, a toy unicorn in one hand while the other flicked a lighter on and off in boredom. He did, however, seem to perk up at the sight of Archimedes (Archimedes mentally noped at the thought of being close to that thing). When it spoke,the words were muffled, but the Engineer seemed to occasionally nod to him, as if understanding every word he spoke. 

The next man sat in the center of the conference table. He sat cross - legged, wearing a suave, brownish-red suit with a red balaclava. He smoked a cigarette while reading a magazine, looking at his watch from time to time. Medic had no idea who he was. Archimedes simply concluded that the man was skinny; his stomach would be too tiny to play in. The dove would probably end up killing him from the simplest tug on his thin, squishy organs, which wouldn’t be fun. Pulsing, live organs were the best. 

The last man sat on the far right, and both Doctor and bird were surprised. This man was an absolute giant. Even while sitting, it was obvious he was more than 6 feet tall. His arms were thick with muscle and fat, torso wide and round. His head was shaved bald, which was for the best since adding hair would mistake him for a huge bear. Even his face alone could scare a man to death. But as imposing as he looked, the man was quiet while reading a small book in russian. Not surprisingly, his emblem was the Heavy Weapon’s specialist. 

Medic stopped staring in awe at the Heavy when a cough interrupted his thoughts. In front of him was the masked man, who somehow appeared in front of him without any noise. 

“Docteur,” began the groomed man, accent hinting of french descent. He reached a hand out. With a raised eyebrow, the Medic took his hand and shook. “You will know me as the spy. As I have told the rest, I will make it clear that while my loyalty is with RED, certain actions and observations made are imperative to my work, and may cause doubts. When I am given a task, I will do what I must. Be wary,” concluded the Spy calmly, “Do not make it difficult for me, lest things will become difficult for you.”

“Hnn, well, thank you for your words Herr spy. Although I must admit, speaking to me about such curious activities makes me believe you are not a very good spy. A spy would do everything you mentioned, but give no warnings whatsoever, and not be caught at all. I would have never even suspected you to trifle through any personal information; not that you could, since I deem myself good at dissecting snakes” replied Medic.

The Spy was amused, and appeared to smile genuinely. “Very good, Docteur. You are indeed an intelligent man. But do not fear. My words were simply an attempt at honesty. Many who will know me as the Spy will suspect and accuse. I explain this to make certain that what I do is for the team- which is the only statement I shall claim.”

“I hope you will be an asset to the team, Docteur. Of course, I hope to not come across you often. I enter, kill, and escape. Hardly without a scratch.”

Medic hummed. Such an enigmatic man. 

Archimedes puffed up distastefully at the scent of cigarette from the French. He looked around, bored again. He cooed a few times to Wenzel, reminding him that the dove was still here. The Spy noticed the bird and chuckled; what a sad little man the Medic must be to take his winged rat everywhere. 

The Spy ceased the conversation, and moved to the doorway, where Soldier walked over and slapped the back of an incredibly drunk scottish man. The Spy introduced himself and seemed to want to rehearse what he told the Medic. All he got from the Scot was his lunch as the one eyed man vomited all over the Spy’s suit. The Spy released a shrill scream and instantly vanished, whilst comedically leaving a foot trail of vomit behind.

The demolition man hardly noticed what transpired. He thought he saw a man in a suit, but then he threw up and the man was gone. Maybe he’s drunk. Or maybe he’s too drunk. It’s either one or the other. The Scot took another swig of whiskey. 

The Medic was called over by the Engineer, who gestured him to the empty seat. The Engineer introduced Medic to the Pyro, and the two talked, and it seemed (to Archimedes) that the two men had a lot in common. The Engineer must be smart, since Wenzel preferred having astute conversations. 

Archimedes became bored. A few more coo’s and the Medic took Archimedes into his hand. He placed the bird on the table, and pulled out a handful of seeds from his pocket. Wenzel left his hand open on the table for the bird to eat off of. Engineer looked and chuckled at the bird. Pretty cute bird. 

The Medic and Engineer returned to their conversation of inventions and science, and as Archimedes crushed and ate the seeds, he felt a gnawing suspicion arise. The dove looked up and around the room. 

Another teammate arrived, appearing drained with sluggish movements. He probably wasn’t a morning person, and upon view, Engineer realized that the meeting would begin in about 10 minutes or so. The new teammate was very tall, but lanky, with long legs and noodle arms. He sipped a cup of coffee, grumbling as he sat down a few seats away from the Russian.   
But that wasn’t it. It wasn’t the smelly guy with the hat and sunglasses. It was something else. Something that felt obvious. Wait…

It was the fat man. Archimedes peeped.

The Russian man held his book unusually higher. His teal colored eyes looking over the pages and straight ahead, directly across from him. Archimedes slowly connected the lines, and found the man looking in their direction. What was he staring at? He seemed concentrated...

The man was hardly good at being sneaky. However, the Medic and Engineer were still in discussion, the Soldier was trying to pull his raccoon's hand out of the Demo’s empty eye socket, the Spy was still gone, and the Sniper laid his head on the table sleepily, wishing he didn’t pace around his van nervously last night; turns out everyone here was just crazy. So much for professionalism. 

Regardless, the point was that everyone was busy. All but this one man. Maybe it was because he was scary looking. It hardly seemed that way to Archimedes. In fact, if the bird would get closer, he could probably see his reflection in that bald head…

Archimedes felt it was time to follow his instinct and fly towards the big man. Medic stopped talking and snapped, quickly demanding Archimedes to return and not pester the team. Archimedes flew and landed directly in front of the Heavy Weapon’s man. 

The Heavy was shocked to see a little dove randomly fly in front of him. He placed his book down and grew puzzled. Didn’t this bird belong to the Doctor? Heavy couldn’t remember, he was too busy looking at the Doctor himself. He couldn’t help it, his smile was amazing. The Heavy had never seen such perfect, white teeth. And nice cheekbones. And blue eyes that turned gray in the light. The man looked to be in his 40’s, just like the Heavy. If that were the case then he took good care at maintaining his figure. He must have a nice body and oh dear god he was heading his direction. 

Archimedes cooed and flew up, flapping in front of the Heavy’s face to try and sit on his head. The Heavy blocked the bird by raising an arm to cover him, which the bird quickly perched onto. Before Archimedes could make one last leap to that big dome, he felt familiar fingers wiggle under him, causing the bird to automatically hitch onto the Medic’s hand. 

Archimedes was lifted up to the Medic’s face. He looked displeased that he suddenly took off like that. Archimedes could see the Heavy look up at the Medic, frozen in place and a tad bit speechless.

Yes! It was Wenzel! This man was staring at his Wenzel. But why? There was no mistaken, his owner always smelled good, and gave him yummy food and had a comforting voice. Well, he sounded kinda crazy but that’s was part of his charm. Archimedes could stare at his owner for a while, until he decided to play in the still-beating hearts of his Medic’s patients. 

But it felt off. It wasn’t a normal gaze. Archimedes wondered if that mirror-like bald head was worth the trouble. He knew this man was staring at Wenzel. Now Wenzel was in front of him. 

“Sorry for that, he’s a well behaved bird, just curious,” began the Medic, gently stroking the dove’s back. Heavy shook his head slowly, until sporadically standing up to his feet, hand reached out. Medic jumped back a bit, thinking the brute would lash out for bothering him. That’s what he thought until he saw his hand.

“Am Heavy Weapons guy. Your bird is very interesting,” said the Heavy with a chuckle. He took note of the obvious lab coat and cross symbol on his uniform. “You are Doktor, yes?”

“Ja, I am the Medic, pleased to meet you,” replied the Medic. Heavy shivered; even his accent was attractive. 

“Will make sure you are safe out in battle, Doktor,” said the Heavy as firmly as their handshake. Medic wondered how many times a teammate has told him this. 

“Oh really? Well, thank you Heavy. Although, if you’d like to help me, perhaps-”

“What the hell man! Why is there puke on the floor!?” screeched a young man with a baseball hat. It was hardly worth calling him a man; he still had a large percentage of a baby face in tact. 

“Oi! Keep it down, will ya? ‘Ya little wanker,” growled the Sniper, dark circles visible under his glasses. 

“Scout! You are exactly exactly one second late to the meeting! One second too late to stop the enemy from taking our intel! BUT - you were ONE second late to me kicking your scrawny ass,” informed the Soldier, pulling the front of Scout’s tee up towards him.

“Hey man! It don’t seem like you guys are doing anything! What the hell happened to the frickin’ meeting thing,” asked Scout loudly, looking around the room.

“Well, the Spy was supposed to explain to us some stuff since the Administrator’s assistant ain’t comin’. But uh...Spy had to do a quick wardrobe change. Got filthy,” Engineer hinted towards a slumbering Demo. Sniper sighed again and fell forward as well. Pyro followed in suit and pretended to sleep. 

“So there ain’t no meeting? We can all go back to bed? Sweet!” Exclaimed Scout, shoving Soldier away. Sniper lifted his head with a drowsy ‘wha?” before settling down again at the lack of events. 

“Not exactly there boy. I was given this here video from Spy incase he was killed by the other Spy, or somethin’,” replied the Texan, pulling a VCR from his toolbox. “He sure is a weird lil’ bugger, I’ll tell you that...”

The Texan stood up and turned on the TV that was behind the table, facing the door. Medic looked back down at the Heavy, and whispered that they should talk later. Heavy’s jaw dropped; what did the Medic want to talk about? He couldn’t believe the handsome doctor was already asking him out. Of course, it might just be something about his weight, since he IS a doctor, but at least he could talk some more with the Medic. Thank God he was in America…

The Medic returned to his seat with Archimedes at hand. This time, the Medic held up a millet, which Archimedes nibbled at profusely. He would have a proper meal once the meeting was finished. 

Until then, the lights were turned off, and the team of RED mercs watched the video presentation regarding their field of work, and what was come from it. Much of the video was outdated. It was even black and white. 

But as everyone watched the video, Archimedes felt something off again. He quickly turned his head, and lo’ and behold, it was the Heavy. That man kept staring at his Medic. It wasn’t menacing, nor was there too much emotion to be seen. The man, again, chose a moment where no one was really paying attention to oggle at Wenzel (who began to fantasize at the thought of examining the corpses of his enemies). 

It was odd. And Archimedes would keep his eye on the man. No one saw his secretive quirks except the bird himself. But first, he would eat his millet. Food comes first.


	3. First battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the original meet the medic video outtakes.  
> Here are the Meet the Medic Outtakes if you've never seen them:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpAKUAO7HRw&list=PLB694C49059B07AD4  
> (The quote I found in the descriptions box (at the end of this chapter) taunts me with the endless torment that this ship isn't canon).

It had been a week since the team’s first meeting. Now was the time for training, and the RED team worked very hard in preparing for their upcoming battles with BLU. Everyone felt at their peak and prepared, given that they were experienced mercenaries. But no doubt, the ever crazed soldier was adamant on the mercs going above and beyond to assure victory (despite the first battle being in 2 weeks). 

Meanwhile, Archimedes would hang out with the rest of the dove’s in Wenzel’s lab. They’d coo amongst each other, and while Archimedes would join their conversations every now and then (there was a rumor going around that one of the birds are pregnant. It had better not be Ediltrudis; she'd be a terrible mother), Archimedes was bored. He missed his owner, and would wonder what he’s up to. 

Archimedes became excited every time Wenzel came back from work. Him and many other dove’s would gather around the middle aged man, who’d happily reciprocate their greetings. But he wouldn’t stay long. The german would pet the birds, check on their food and water, but would proceed to immediately shower and sleep. 

The Medic’s days consisted of non stop medical attention. During training, his teammates would do the most outrageous things. Rocket jumps that led to broken legs, shooting flares that caused third degree burns, bombs that caused temporary deaf and blindness, and throwing jars of piss, which were… disgusting (but the Australian countered that it improved his aim). 

And when it wasn’t near-fatal injuries, then it would be caring for the most ludicrous things. Scout having a splinter, Demo needing a bucket to vomit in (sometimes the Medic himself was the bucket), Pyro muffling to him that its balloonicorn had a hole in it. Even the mysterious Spy had to be tended with a sprained ankle thanks to a puddle of milk. Medic dragged the limping man back to his lab, muttering about the incessant needs of others.  
He cursed under his breath in german, adding that the Spy was a little bitch- and being unaware that the Spy understood german and grimaced while being treated.

Once the sun had settled, Medic would saunter back to his chambers, body sore and head aching from the constant pacings and criticisms from team mates. However, the German wouldn’t rest, since he technically hadn’t done his share of training. Grudgingly, he’d enter his bedroom, where small exercise equipment was set up to train privately. After stretching and changing out of his formal uniform, Wenzel would proceed to workout. He’d do typical push ups, pull ups by the bar above his closet, lifting dumbbells, and a few other activities until his body instinctively told him to stop. 

Upon finishing, he’d move on to experiments. After leaving his room to shower, he’d come back and sit at his desk, where an incomplete gun was hidden over a white cloth. The Medic had been tinkering with the device in front, an idea scrapped long ago until he was given a large quantity of resources and money by RED. A device that would be able to heal on the go, so that patients wouldn’t have to line up at his office. It would be especially useful in the battlefield, so that he could keep up with the team. 

The Engineer was kind enough to lend him some tools and even his own piece of advice. At first Medic was reluctant to share his idea with another, but the Texan seemed genuine and added that they were all on the same team anyways. It seemed to pay off since Wenzel’s forte was obviously science and medicine; he only had a basic grasp of technology. The Medic would work on the device for hours until it was well past midnight. He used to be able to stay awake for days, but it was more difficult to do so these days. No surprise given he had more energy back then. 

During all of this, the dove’s would watch their owner from up above. Archimedes would flutter down to perch onto Wenzel’s shoulder, who in return would peck the bird on the beak. Sweet, gentle cooing would emit from the bird, but despite Archimedes pulling on the side of Wenzel’s black hair, the bespectacled man would return to work. It was odd for Archimedes that this occurred. He knew he was Wenzel’s favorite bird, so it boggled him that he did not gain any attention. 

The time moving forward and the eerie silence caused Archimedes to become sleepy. The rest of the doves were nestled and snuggled together in slumber. Wenzel sighed, rubbing his blurry eyes, and stood up. The movement caused Archimedes to stir, and made tiny noises in protest. He could sleep forever on Wenzel’s shoulder. But alas, he was placed on a wooden perch next to Ediltrudis. The bird would have protested, but soon after the Medic turned off the lights and went into his bedroom, stripping down to plain, blue boxers and falling dead asleep. Archimedes followed huddled closer to the dove beside him. 

This routine would continue for the Medic until the day of the first battle. Wenzel would never have guessed that it’d be even worse then everything mentioned previously. Even Archimedes was somehow aware that his owner was immensely strained, and therefore stayed quiet while controlling his desire to bath into the blood bath shown below him. 

The Medic huffed as he and the Pyro brought in Heavy, who was barely conscious and loaded with bullets and organs peeping out of his stomach. The large man was silent and pale, and all the Medic could do was ungracefully plop the Heavy down against the wall. The Pyro quickly left to join the Soldier, Engineer, and Sniper outside the fort to defend their intel. The Spy was nowhere to be seen, as usual. 

Archimedes eyed the exposed stomach of the Heavy. It looked like so much fun; not to mention, the dove recognized this man. It was the man that stared at his Wenzel for far too long. The man looked like he was in pain, which didn’t bother the dove. As a matter of fact, Archimedes got a sense of joy at seeing the large, bald creature be distressed. That way, he could stop looking at Wenzel. And maybe, if he behaved well, his owner would allow the bird to make a nest out of the protruding, slimy organs. Archimedes instinctively groomed his feathers in preparations for his new toy, and afterwards looked around at the chaos around the med bay. 

The Demoman was currently laying on the operating table, babbling nonsense with the anesthetic inside his bloodstream (or maybe he was drunk), masking the pain from the protruding axe attached to his chest. The Scout was also on the ground, knees pressed up to his chest, and screaming while waving his dismembered foot in his hand. A pool of blood surround the boy, and in the midst of madness, the Medic found a moment to laugh to himself that the puddle looked like Scout pissed himself. He giggled a bit more when the Scout gave a horrified expression at the Medic’s sudden glee.

The Pyro would come back and forth to the Medic’s makeshift lab (his proper lab too far for the patients), checking on the Medic before leaving again. The Pyro would even stand guard at the door way, flamethrower at hand. He was surprisingly dependable. The Medic made a mental note to reward the pyromaniac with candy. 

The Medic got busy with tending to the Russian, quickly setting up a stand and attaching an IV to the Heavy. The larger man looked down at the needles being stuck into him. He slowly looked back up at the German. 

Even with a fuzzy perspective- and being coated with blood and sweat- the Medic looked just as sharp and articulated as when he first met him. On the training grounds, the Heavy couldn’t help but watch the man running around the fields. He was surprisingly fast on his feet despite hints of aging. The Medic was visibly distressed and ready to throw a tantrum at the next splinter case. Heavy pitied the German doctor and tried to cause the least amount of ruckus he could; but it was also amusing to see his sarcastic reactions. Of course, his resentment was scary, and his death threats gorey and vivid. But overall, the team could drive him to madness, and their Medic will aid his comrades and get the job done (not to mention being very handsome, but that’s a more personal bonus to the Heavy).

Was the doctor strict and angry? Yes. Had a questionable sense of morale? Yes. A morbid sense of humor? Yes. But despite all the signs of him being a sadistic individual, the Heavy felt a bit infatuated. The Medic was definitely unique, and regardless of his tactics, was undeniably intelligent. If he were not, then how was he capable of multitasking the care of 8 different men? Such as right now. 

“Doctor, are you sure I should not die? Come back to life anyway…” Slurred the Heavy.

“And wait a lifetime for you to return from respawn? Nien, danke, that’s a waste of time,” the Medic wiped his brow and jogged over to Scout, plucking his foot away and throwing it in a nearby freezer. “You are needed in the battlefield immediately.”

As the Medic continued with the negative side effects of their new respawn system, Heavy frowned. He swore out of the corner of his eye that he saw something move in the background. A quick, shadowy figure that disappeared as fast as the Russian could spot him. Heavy shook his head, assuming it was the loss of blood; until the IV bag above his head exploded. Heavy gasped as the sound of footsteps approached him.

“SPY!” roared the Heavy, pointing behind the Medic.

The Medic, in a flash, whipped out his bonesaw. The doctor spun around and effortlessly sliced the BLU spy’s knife-wielding hand clean off. The sound of gun shots randomly erupted, but the Medic hardly paid attention to that. The Spy yelped and froze, in far too much shock to acknowledge the searing pain. The Medic quickly used said shock in advantage, grabbing the Spy by his tie, and going all out. He swung over and over at his neck, chopping away until a simple tug at his tie snapped the remaining chunks of flesh, and letting the Spy’s head fall off. 

Heavy nonchalantly catches it, not wanting to make the med bay any more messy for the Doctor. The Medic released the corpse, and let it fall to the ground. Although killing the Spy helped ease the stress, it came back in full force when he realized his surroundings.

For starters, the Heavy was practically dead (Archimedes was now cooing happily). The Medic fell to his knees and felt a faint pulse at the Russians neck. He smacked the Heavy out of frustration, and let his head fall. The Medic looked back up and gaped.

When the Heavy shouted Spy, the Scout stopped rocking back and forth, and pulled out his pistol. He didn’t know where the enemy Spy was, but it didn’t stop him from pulling the trigger and shooting blindly. He shot everywhere except to his left, where the Medic dealt with the BLU Spy. The bullet from Scout’s pistol shot at the Demoman’s open chest. Demo cried out before practically exploding from the infusion of alcohol and the bullets heated spark (it seemed the Scot pulled out a bottle of scotch while drugged heavily). 

Medic stood by himself, in disbelief at the events that occurred. He looked at the 4 different corpses lying on the ground. He felt guilt rise up his chest, until he sighed in disappointment. Surely he was a better Doctor than this. Medic slapped himself across the face; now wasn’t the time to sulk, especially since a bleeding Soldier stepped into the room, while tugging an unconscious Sniper over his shoulder. 

“Doc! The Sniper is dead! Hurry and take the organs out while its fresh!” the Soldier dropped the Sniper, marched over to operating table, brushed off the remains of Demoman, and laid down on it. “I think I have some organs missing Doc; if I were you I’d take my advice and hurry up!” The Soldier proceeds to open his jacket, revealing a large hole in it. 

The Medic ignored the Soldier for a moment, forcing a large tube into the spy’s body in hopes of transferring Heavy more blood. The man stirred, but it was inconclusive as to whether it was just a muscle spasm or not. Medic pumped as much blood as he could until moving his attention to the Sniper. 

While the Medic checked on Sniper (who was not dead but the Soldier’s idea wasn’t off limits), he noticed something beside the operating table. A green, sizzling puddle began to form. It appeared to be a combination of many things knocked over when Demoman blew up; a jarete, a sandvich, bottle of medicine, and various chemicals. The Medic stared while still on the ground, curiosity taking over. Even the Soldier’s barking and Archimedes pecking at the Sniper’s skull became deaf to the German’s ears. 

The Scout cried out when the explosion caused a knife to zoom towards him. It stabbed him in the arm, and the Scout forcefully ripped it out. A piece of the Scout’s flesh flew into the green puddle. Medic gasped as the familiar red beam appeared. 

He knows what happened. He knows what this is. And inspiration quickly struck. 

In one last act of desperation, Medic removes the tube from Heavy, and begins jetting the blood of their enemy into the puddle. More clouds of red began to surface with more flesh. It spread towards the Heavy, aiming at his open wound. With a few more pumps, the red haze grew more bold, and Medic stared in awe as the wound began to close.

Suddenly, Heavy awoke, breathing in a large gulp of air. His vision cleared, and was greeted with the sight of large, gray blue eyes staring back at him. Heavy watched as the Medic beamed; his grin grew wide, revealing that sinister yet perfect smile of his. Heavy could stare at that expression for a while. Is his brain a bit messy from the respawn? It seemed he was back where he was before his vision went black. Heavy was confused, but simply concluded that their Medic was an angel. 

As he looked around his surroundings, he recalled catching the Spy’s decapitated head. The Heavy looked at the head, which was also being covered with the red, healing beam. The Spy head appeared to twitch, and in a moment of silence, a pair of blue eyes snap wide open.

“KILL ME!!!”

Medic shrieked, and Heavy wordlessly drops the head in disgust. The Spy’s head rolls around the puddle, and when he lays nose up, he screams again in agony.

“KILL ME!!!”

Medic runs over to a now unconscious Scout, and takes his pistol. Medic returns and quickly begins shooting at the head screaming in bloody torment. Even for a crazed doctor such as himself, this was beyond unsettling, and for the first time in a long time, the Medic felt sorrow for another. The Medic figured this was mercy killing. But the bullets ricochet off the head.

“I SAID KILL ME!!!” Demanded the Spy head horsley.

“I’m trying! But you’re…” Medic trailed off. He was invulnerable. Medic’s astonished expression soon melted into genuine jubilance. He shot off a few more bullets, and proceeds to hop into the air with success.

In the midst of the scenario, the BLU team was slowly making their way into the RED’s fort. Engineer had no choice but to move his sentry and dispenser towards the entrance, keeping everyone away. Pyro dashed back and forth, keeping the oncoming BLU away with his flames, and pushing said enemies away with air blasts. Pyro overall did his best protecting the Engineer, who kept repairing the level 3 sentry.

The Spy kept going through the sewers and disguising as the enemies. He’d turn into a Sniper in order to have an excuse to stay back. When he’d creep up to the BLU, the Spy quickly backstabbed and disappeared. He did this process multiple times, picking off the enemy team until going into hiding to disguise as a different merc. 

The Spy was doing a good job of killing and retreating; the BLU team now fully aware that a Spy was present, which caused a frenzy. It was also a good distraction, and the Demoman couldn’t have respawned more perfectly than now. He was short of breath and sore, but quickly shook it off; he had to get moving.

Hearing the exclaimed ‘Spy!’ from the BLU base, Demo began shooting sticky bombs around the bridge. His presence became noticed due to his booming accent and laughter, and those who ran blindly (typically a Scout) were immediately blown up. 

The Demo set off more traps and launched grenades at the front of the BLU base. He ran back to get more ammo from the dispenser. He noticed that only him, Engie, Pyro, and the Spy were present.

“Where’s the rest of the team!?” shouted Demo to Engineer.

“I think they’re still at the Med ba-”

The Engineer was cut off by an explosion from the Soldier’s rocket launcher. The Soldier grinned and ran past the Engineer and Demo. “Let’s go! Charge!” Yelled the Soldier. Demoman smirked and ran beside the Soldier. Engineer stared as the two blasted off into the second floor of the BLU base, taking out a shocked BLU Sniper. Soon the Scout sped past the Texan, bat in hand while howling in delight; he’d never take his legs for granted ever again!

Engineer blinked a few times until jumping at the close proximity of Sniper’s shot. The bullet took out the BLU Medic instantly, who fell on top of the injured teammate that he was helping. The Sniper laughed and moved back into the RED base to get higher ground. 

Suddenly, Pyro was blown back by the enemy BLU Pyro and fell into the waters. The sentry gun shot at the BLU Pyro was soon bombarded by rockets of the BLU Soldier. Engineer pulled out his shotgun, watching his sentry get blown up, the rubble causing a massive gash on his arm. Before the Engineer could exclaim his predicament, the BLU Soldier became littered with bullet holes from the Heavy’s minigun. The Russian roared with laughter, watching the helmeted man fall down a messy heap. 

Engineer stared in surprise at the sudden rebound of the RED team. One second it was just him and Pyro, the next the entire team was fighting back ferociously. The Texas hurried to make another sentry, but flinched at his injured arm. A random needle was stabbed into the open gash. It stung a great deal until a strange fluid was flushed out. It was warm and numbed the pain; the moment the needle was taken out, the wound was closed without any need of stitching. 

The Engineer turned to the Medic, who grinned successfully at his accomplishment. Archimedes stood on his shoulder, munching on some grains. He was pleased that his Wenzel was happy again. And it seemed that the short, chubby man was happy too!

“Well I’ll be damned,” Said Engineer, eagerly returning to his Sentry. 

“It seems I’ll be requiring your assistance once our mission is completed, ja?” asked the Medic, watching with keen interest at the Heavy guarding the front. Engineer was happy to comply, and the two agreed with a meeting one of these days. This medicine not only healed his teammates, but seemed to revitalize them too. They were more energized and alert, as if everyone had a good breakfast. But this was only the first step to Wenzel’s plan. The machine’s in his mind were whirling with ideas. Who’s to say this can’t be taken up a notch? What if he can strengthen the stamina of man himself? Turn these mere men into weapons of glorious power! The Medic became giddy was excitement. 

And what better man to use then the strongest of the entire team? As the Scout brought the BLU’s intel back to the RED’s base, Heavy turned back to gain ammo. As he did this, he saw the Medic tending to Pyro (who emerged from the sewers with a broken arm). When the Pyro was healed instantaneously, the Medic turned his attention to the Heavy, who stood by the dispenser. 

The two stared for a brief moment at one another. The Medic made a curt nod towards the Russian, and the Heavy felt his chest tighten at sight of his great Doctor looking pleased at him. Heavy nodded back, eyes twinkling and suddenly feeling very warm, returning to the front lines enthusiastically. 

“You are great, Doctor!” Exclaimed the Heavy over his shoulder.

Medic chuckled and resumed to casually pull a splinter out of Scout’s hand. Meanwhile, Archimedes was dead silent. Why were they staring at each other? Why was Wenzel looking at that man? One minute his owner was happy and feeding Archimedes his midday snack, the next he brought the bird along on his shoulder to the battlefield. At this part of the story, the two should be pulling intestines out of a body and pretending they’re necklaces. It should be about them two only. 

Archimedes was concerned. He didn’t want Wenzel to stare at the big man like that. At first, the dove could care less since Wenzel wasn’t stupid. Now he was copying the big man. Archimedes hopes that it’s because Wenzel had a busy day as a field medic. Maybe after they return to Wenzel’s room he’ll be normal.

Otherwise, he’ll have to intervene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Playtesting made us realize that we'd invested a huge amount of screen time on the nuts and bolts of the birth of an inanimate object, when we should have been focusing on our star. We scrapped the origin story of the medigun and went back to basics. When people think of the Medic, what do they think of? What's the iconic image?
> 
> The Medic, ubercharging a Heavy."
> 
> guys why isn't this ship canon


	4. First drunken encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to MafagafoGirl and CorporalFire for being cool

“We did it mate!” Cheered Demoman, arm wrapped around the Scout’s bony shoulders and kicking open the doors to the base. Scout whooped in return and the rest of the team followed inside, bloody and victorious. 

“Ay! Who wants to celebrate?” said the Scot over his shoulder, opening his chest full of booze. Immediately after saying this, the Spy disappeared, and everyone nodded to this (except the Pyro, who seemed content with the happy atmosphere). 

Medic chuckled, and silently strode to the next hallway, hauling a box of empty ammo at hand. He enjoyed a good drink every now and then, but he was exhausted from the stressful events of today, despite the joyous relief of winning. 

Archimedes couldn’t be happier. Wenzel spent so much time with everyone today, and it was about time they head back to the medbay. Without warning, the Engineer yanked the Medic’s collar back. “Where you headin’ doc? Ain’t gonna have a few drinks with the team?” asked the Texan. “Ah, nein danke. I have things to attend to at the moment, Engineer,” replied Medic, looking down at the cardboard box he held at hand. 

He had to make sure the BLU Spy head made it safely to the medbay. The Spy had been, thankfully, less rambunctious after sedation. But he had to hurry before the head awoke and started wailing about his wish to die. The Medic had yet to tell anyone, feeling that the team may not be very welcoming to the severed head. It was probable that the Scout would use the Spy head as a baseball and strike it, or Sniper use him for target practice (he seemed to have a personal dislike towards the Spy). The Medic did not want to fathom what the Pyro would do… 

“Ah, c’mon doc. Just have a couple of drinks, will ya? Tomorrow might not be a pretty day, and we won’t always win like today. It’s best to enjoy while it's good, right?”The Medic looked away, trying his best to not fall for the temptation of having fun. 

“Let the lass go!” yelled the Demo from across the room, “Ya know the Germans can’t handle a bottle of scrumpy!”

Medic turned fast at this statement. Archimedes nearly toppled over and the German harrumphed, smiling ecstatically. Suddenly, his pride was on the line, and he hadn’t had a friendly drinking contest in a while. Oktoberfest was halted in both world wars, and after some years of isolation, the idea was appealing to the Medic.

The Medic went over to a storage closet and placed the cardboard box on the corner, behind stockpiles of unknown supplies. As Medic closed the door behind him, he made a mental note to grab the box after drinking. Archimedes flapped around the entire time, until Medic halted to allow the bird to perch on his shoulder again.

Heavy sat on the sofa, watching Medic leave the closet and stride towards the Demo haughtily. The Medic dramatically removed his white lab coat, and a chorus of ‘oohs’ followed afterwards (particularly the Scout, who jumped up and down with a can of soda at hand). The Engineer sat down beside the giant, and sighed. He crossed his legs and took a swig of beer before leaning forward.

“Alright pal, got the Doc to stay around. Anything else?”

“No. That is all.”

“Mind if I ask why you want him to stay?” Inquired Engineer, watching the Demo and Medic clink their bottle together and drink. Heavy laughed softly, wiping his nose. “Just wanted to say thanks to Doctor. Saved my life today. Helped everyone. knew he go away; very serious man, you know?” replied the Heavy.

“Nah, he ain’t that strict. He’s pretty goofy when you get to know him. Real silly fella, and can tell some pretty good jokes. He’s alright, just gotta get to know him. Just needs to be professional for the team. He’s the Medic, y’know? Gotta get serious and show who’s boss.”

Heavy hummed, appearing lost in thought. The Engineer makes him sound easy to talk to, but the Heavy still felt unsure. It didn’t help that the Medic and Engineer seemed to be on good terms. It’s not a surprise, considering they’re both intellectuals. The Heavy actually had a degree in Russian literature. He considered himself very well spoken, and enjoyed deep discussions and philosophical ideas. But these tools were, in Heavys opinion, useless in the world of science and medicine and complicated mathematics. And like many members of the team, Heavy made sure not to discuss any personal information. The only exception was the Scout, who had no issues with talking about his entire life story. The Heavy hardly knew how to communicate casually at times; the only exception being his family. 

The Texan picks up on this and slaps the Heavy’s back. “You got any hobbies big guy?”

“I like guns.”

“Anything else?”

“...Reading?”

Engineer smirked, “The Doc loves to read. That’s all ya need, partner.” Engineer nudged the Heavy’s burly shoulder, aiming his attention at the Medic, who was currently swaying and being cheered on by the Soldier (there was a drunken bet made that involved patriotism and money). Heavy chortled as the flushed German grew agitated by the Demoman’s remarks, who was his exact self since the beginning of the contest (which was now about 10 minutes ago).

Engineer raised an eyebrow at the Heavy’s amused face. “You ain’t waitin’ for him to be shit faced for a particular reason, are ya?” Heavy turned around, irked at the comment, “Do not like implications, little man.” Engineer raised his hands in peace, “Just messin’ with ‘ya. But if you’re thinkin’ of gettin’ to know the Doc, then now’s yer chance.”

As soon as the Engineer said this, the Medic tipped backwards and was caught by the Pyro, holding up the Medic from his underarms. The Medic let his head fall forward, from both intoxication and shame. He barely lasted more than 10 minutes, and the Demoman was awarded a sombrero. He jumped onto the table and danced, whilst the Soldier proceeded to pay Sniper the bet money. 

The Medic really wanted that Sombrero... 

The Soldier glared at the groggy Medic, saddened that his American comrade had failed (and costed him $20). “You are a disgrace to our country!” announced the Soldier towards Medic. He walked past him and challenged the Demoman, making it clear that he would face the wrath of a true American. 

Pyro easily hauled the Medic onto a stool by the poker table, right across from the new drinking game that commenced. Pyro stared at the German, who was swaying and muttering curse words in his native tongue. The Pyro left for a moment, returned with a balloon and a disturbed Archimedes held tightly in his gloved hand, and patted the Medic’s shoulder. He placed Archimedes on Medic’s head, and tied the string of the balloon around his wrist. 

When Pyro skipped away to watch the drinking competition, Medic was dumbfounded and looking around. He looked down at his wrist, where the string was tightly tied. It was a bit painful, leaving faint marks when trying to untie the balloon string. Archimedes cooed, trying his best to get Wenzel’s attention. They were supposed to leave a long time ago, and now his owner was barely responding. 

Medic slowly raised his head towards Archimedes and chuckled; he tickled the the back of the dove’s neck, which prompted another, delightful coo. The noise caused Medic to pause and blink a few times. He had to do something, didn’t he? He closed his eyes and after remaining still for a moment he remembered...nothing. 

With a sigh, the Medic rose from the stool, slumping against the closest wall to try gaining his composure. Archimedes remained perched on Medic’s head, looking around the area, as if he were a watchman. He watched the skinny kid get knocked unconscious by the drunk helmet man’s shovel. The man with dark skin and one eye suddenly had a bagpipe with him and played ugly sounds. The tall, lanky man was in the corner, appearing to relieve himself into a jar. Then there was the creepy, gasmasked creature drawing in a coloring book, alongside a relaxed chubby man playing the guitar. A random guy in a red suit appeared in the room, taking pictures of what everyone was doing, and disappeared with a trail of smoke left behind.

But nothing compared to the horror’s the Archimedes saw next.

From across the room was the big bald man, doing what Archimedes hated with a passion; staring. Archimedes was used to being stared at. He was very cute, and often times enjoyed the attention (especially from Wenzel). But the dove knew that this wasn’t about him. He knew in his little bird head that this was about his beautiful doctor. Wenzel always had an endearing expression when he stared at Archimedes and the other doves. A sweet and protecting look that made the pigeon's heart swell and sing aloud. 

And that was the issue. That this man had that exact same expression towards Wenzel. That same, wide-eyed look that only the pet and owner shared. The Doctor was an eccentric man; easy to excite if it involved slicing opening a still beating heart, or peeping into the wet, squishy brains of his subjects. But he was never really emotional, nor compassionate. When he was, it was only towards his doves, or very personal snippets that brought rare joy.

So why (and when) did this man think he could suddenly get all cozy with Wenzel? All of the dove's have been with Medic for years. This fat guy just met him. He doesn't know the Medic's name! Archimedes fluffed up in agitation; he needs to stop before he pulls his own feathers. 

With a deep breath (and much to Archimedes' dismay), the Heavy walked briskly towards the tipsy Medic. Archimedes froze. As the bald man slowly approached the duo, Archimedes was quick to flap wildly on Wenzel's head. The Medic turned his head up, frowning and raising his hands in a poor attempt to grabbing the frantic bird. 

"Archimedes...get back in the cage..." drawled the Medic. He eventually grabbed the bird, and awkwardly tried to stuff Archimedes inside his vest. As nice as Wenzel's cologne was, Archimedes tore himself away via biting the Medic's thumb. The Medic flinched and released the bird, who quickly flew towards the ground. Meanwhile, the Heavy was looking straight towards the Medic, and trying to think of a topic that would suffice upon meeting him. 

"Hello Doctor. It's me, Heavy Weapons Guy. Want to say thanks for earlier. Early in battle today, you save my life. You are amazing. Maybe we team up for fights. We go together...нет. Too much...Ah...это трудно*..." muttered Heavy, feeling more nervous as he approached the Medic. He couldn't help it; the man looked funny when drunk. And his glasses slid down his nose, revealing large, rich blue eyes. There was even hints of gray when his eyes met the sunshine from an open window. He was finally less then 5 feet away, raising a shaky hand to alert the German of his presence (he was looking for Archimedes in his vest). His back was turned and the Heavy reached out once his final steps were approaching. 

"coo" 

Heavy looked down. The Medic's pet bird was standing on the floor, wings oddly stretched out. The bird was trying to emit the loudest noises he could muster. It was cute at first glance, but the Heavy panicked; he was about to step on the Medic's bird. Heavy did not know why the bird stayed put, especially when a massive creature such as himself was about to obliterate him with his foot. Nonetheless, it caused Heavy to stop so abruptly, that the foot raised over the birds head promptly flew back. The quick movement made Heavy unbalanced, and as if God himself were mocking him, the Heavy found himself falling. 

It seemed like a victory for Archimedes. He momentarily kept the beast away from his poor, currently dimwitted owner. It pleased Archimedes to see the fear in that man's eye. His imposing figure clearly frightened the bald man; but alas, Archimedes had to immediately fly away. He flew and- as if Bird God was mocking him- watched the big bald man fall forward towards his precious Medic. All Archimedes could do was screech to alert his owner- who responds by looking around wildly. 

Heavy threw his arms forward, and upon hitting the ground, was able to keep his weight from crushing the poor Medic. Wenzel was confused- his head ached and he had to pee; but overall, was confused. One second he was trying to look for Archimedes, the next he felt a monstrous pressure fall onto him, and was suddenly on the floor. His glasses fell off, and all Medic could do was hiss and arch to rub his back. 

For a brief moment, Heavy was completely frozen. He was laying right on top of the Medic, chests touching and faces a few inches away. His eyes were lovelier up close, with combed black hair disheveled and plastered to his forehead, and breath smelling like beer (which wasn't a complaint). But for the split second that time slowed down, realization hit the Russian, and Heavy scurried to get off the Medic, who kept groaning in discomfort. 

"Ugh..." Medic groaned, rubbing his eyes to clear the blurriness. He felt the weight on his chest disappear, allowing Medic to lean up and stare into space. A pair of large hands grabbed his waist and easily lift him to his feet; the Medic almost hovered in the air before being plopped back down. One of the hands kept a firm hold of his back, allowing the Medic to finally stand straight. The Heavy began rambling between English and Russian. "врач! Прости! Saw bird on ground and-" 

A fist met the Heavy's throat, causing him to gag and walk backwards. The Doctor had a fierce punch; oh the things you learn everyday. "Dummkopf!" barked the Medic, still rubbing the back of his head, but clearly fuming.

Archimedes watched from the ceiling as the fat man recoiled from his owner's stinging words (and drunken punches). The dove puffed up and cleaned himself, quite pleased that Wenzel was giving that man a piece of his mind. The out-of-nowhere, clichè romcom fall was unexpected, but it seemed everything was alright. At this point the rest of the team had gotten fairly intoxicated, except the creepy gas mask thing, who now played in a random kiddie pool, and the chubby helmet guy (who shook his head in disappointment). 

Archimedes noticed that Wenzel's glasses had landed under the table. The mechanics in his tiny brain whirled, and the bird made haste to go after the glasses. He zoomed past a wobbly, angry Medic and the cautious, yet amused bald man. Archimedes fluttered to a stop upon landing, and hopped over to the glasses. They looked a bit broken, but the bird was certain they were fine. He picks them up with his beak, and after some adjusting, flew back to Wenzel. 

"Scheißkerl" jeered Medic, and before spilling any more profanities, paused. He turned to see Archimedes perch onto his shoulder, holding his glasses. "Ah!" yelped Medic happily. Heavy looked between the bird and owner; regardless of the falling incident, Heavy felt that not killing the bird was his smartest choice today. Lesser of two evils, he supposed. 

"Danke Archimedes!" said the Medic, previous tantrum brushed aside with joys of finding his bird and sight. But his smile dropped instantly when glasses were halfway up. He pulled the glasses back and gasped. One lens was completely gone, while the other chipped and cracked directly in the center. The bridge dented unevenly, and one of the hinges bent. Medic groaned again, slapping his forehead and throwing his head back. Unbelievable!

"Everything alright Doctor?" Asked the Heavy, inching closet to the Medic.

"My...my glasses" muttered the Medic somberly. He then swiftly threw the glasses across the room, hitting the Sniper at the back of his head. Sniper growled, and turned around to punch the air- coincidentally punching and knocking out an invisible Spy. 

"Aiii! I must get another pair at my quaters" mumbled the Medic. 

"I can help you Doctor-" 

"NIEN. You helped plenty," Medic scoffed. As he said this, the Medic slipped on a puddle, and smashes his forehead against the wall. Archimedes quickly bolted away at the sudden, sharp movements, watching from afar. The Medic pushed away from the wall and hit his back on the edge of table. Finally, while soothing his head and back, he tripped over the unconcious Spy and found himself on the wooden floor (again). 

Heavy stared the entire time. He's glad more then half the team is drunk; the display he just witnessed was an utter embarrassment (he can hear the Engineer shamelessly laughing). Nontheless, he raced to the limp Doctor's side, pulling him back to his feet. The Medic now had a red mark on his forehead, and a bloody nose. He looked exhausted, and with a loud breath, held out his hand. Heavy blinked at the open hand, and the Medic groaned in exasperation. 

"Help me to my office, bitte," said the Medic monotoned. Heavy lit up, and gawkiliy took the Medic's hand. His fingers felt long, bony, and nimble; enclosed in the Heavy's larger, calloused hand. The heavy was certain that without the gloves, his hands were probably skeletal. But none of those factors stopped the Heavy from blushing madly as he ushered the Medic out of the desecrated break room.

The walk to the medbay was excruciating. The only noises made were their footsteps, and the faint screams of the entire team back in the break room. 

The Medic eventually detached his hand from the Heavy, choosing to keep them to his sides. The Heavy kept close to the teetering Doctor, grasping his forearms gently and keeping him upright. 

"Sorry for glasses." 

"Hnnn." 

"Saw little bird and was about to step on it. Was an accident." 

"Wait, where is Archimedes?" Asked Medic, looking more focused. "I think your birdie is in break room..." 

Upon responding, the Heavy jumped as his head was viciously pecked. Insane flapping could be heard, and Archimedes used his nails to grab the Heavy's ear. All Heavy could see was a milky colored bird in his face, trying to gouge the Russians eyes out. 

Did they forget about him? Did he think Archimedes would let a stranger go his merry way with Wenzel. How ridiculous. 

But these feelings were nothing compared to the sense of defeat, as the one who stopped Archimedes attack was Wenzel himself. The German carefully pulled his wild Dove away from the scratched up Heavy and cooed softly. "Where were you Archimedes? You must not go *hic* disappearing like that. Please inform me next time, alright?" Archimedes wiggled in his grasp, but eventually stopped. He supposed it was ok for him to be this way instead. 

Heavy stared icily at the bird. It was that same bird that gave him funny looks. The same bird that made him loose his balance and now gave him scratches and a bleeding ear. Heavy fears no bird, but this, thing...it scared him.

"Doctor, why did bird try to kill me?" Spoke the Heavy, trying to remind the gleeful Medic of what just happened. Medic paused his coddling to look back at the scratched Heavy. 

"Ho ho! He's an odd bird, my Archimedes. He's quite explosive. Although, I don't know why he targeted you like so..." Archimedes cooed again and the Medic returned to stroking the dove’s back. 

Heavy shook his head. This man could speak for himself, no less the oddball then his murderous bird. "This way Doctor" Started the Heavy, holding the almost-sober Medic upright and trudging onwards. 

The Medic was so absurdly keen on his bird that Heavy glanced from the corner of his eye again. The Medic had to squint to look directly at the bird. 

Heavy pondered why he was doing this anyhow. He could have just drank and relaxed with the rest of his team, but instead is making sure the bespectacled man didn't trip over and tumble down the stairs. He watched at first glance how clumsy this man is when drunk. Now he's practically blind and could even be killed by a harmless sandvich. 

"We are almost at end of hall doctor" 

"Ah, wünderbar! We should be approaching my office," replied the Medic, looking around blindly. 

Silenced loomed over the two men and bird, and Medic spoke up again. "Herr Heavy, I would like to apologize." Heavy looked down at the doctor. "For what?" 

"Well, you went through the trouble of walking me to my office. And ah...I believe I recall striking you. My mistake," chuckled the Medic nervously. 

Heavy smiled in return, shrugging. "Is no problem Doctor. Have had much worse injuries then that. But I am very surprised. You are strong, Doctor." 

"Hmm? And what is that supposed to mean? Being a man of science does not make me feeble, Herr Heavy," replied Medic snarkily, yet smirking nontheless. 

Heavy raised a brow, frowning. "Well, punch did not hurt. Just surprised me" defended Heavy. "Also, you hit my throat. Very sneaky, Doctor." 

"Oh dear~ Would you like a bandaid and a kiss?" Teased the Medic sweetly, laughing at the Heavy's bothered expression. "Well, realistically, I cannot take you on head first. A man of your physique could easily defeat me. But there are ways around brute strength...and also I was drunk," asserts the Medic with confidently. 

"You are right," nodded the Heavy, "You kill BLU Spy like nothing earlier. Smart and strong man indeed," complimented the Heavy. Medic frowned for a moment. He forgot something very important, didn't he? The Heavy mentioned the killing of the BLU Spy...Oh, but what fun it was to kill that French snake! 

Heavy swore the Medic flushed a bit, as he threw his head back and chortled. His adams apple bobbed and Heavy watched from upclose that perfect, dazzling smile of his. He loved the crinkles around his eyes and the dimples that the Heavy never noticed before. 

Heavy enjoyed being with this man. He couldn't believe how right Engineer was about the Doctor. But as fun their conversation has been, the Heavy halts the two as they stand in front of the Medbay. 

"We are here, Doctor," said the Heavy. 

"Finally!" The Medic moves to the key pad on the side of the twin doors, enters the code, and unlocks the door. 

Heavy stood still, arms behind his back, and trying to be calm. It had been going so well, and not only did it feel so short, but it seemed the Medic was hardly bothered. Of course, he needed his glasses, but it felt awkward. A million thoughts went through Heavy's head. Thoughts such as things they could've kept talking about. What if they'd never have the time to chat like this again? Would the Medic still enjoy his company? It's a shame that the Heavy's first success at basic conversings may be the last... 

"HEAVY" yelled the Medic, now physically angry. Heavy jumped, startled out of his melodramatic inner rantings. 

"Uh, yes Doctor?" Stammered Heavy. 

"I was asking if you wanted to come by my office for an experiment," claimed the Medic. His head was sticking out out the twin doors. 

"What kind of experiment?" Asked Heavy. In all honesty, he'd say yes to the experiment in a heart beat. Scratch that- he'd say yes to this doctor regardless of anything. 

"Ehh...nothing important," said the Medic as nonchalantly as possible. "The next battle will be approaching, comrade. We must keep innovations for victory, ja? I'll explain more when you're available, and hopefully on board," implied the Medic expectantly. 

"Will think about it Doctor," replied Heavy. He then realized what the Medic just said. "But if you convince me then we shall see," added the Heavy. 

"Oh, is that so? Very well, Herr Heavy. We can talk over wine and dinner in my office next week" joked the Medic, chuckling as he closed the doors to the medbay. 

"I, ah- Very well Doctor!" Replied Heavy aloud, feeling warm and energized. He and the Medic can spend time again. There was a valid reason that did not require awkward hello's or short words. And what was that about dinner and wine? Was he serious? It sounded nice, but was there am implication? Nontheless, the Heavy felt relieved...until a pebble fell on his head. 

Heavy looked up at the ceiling, where, unsurprisingly, Archimedes was perched on the rails. 

Heavy frowned. "Why are you a mean little bird?" 

"Coo..." 

"Do not want to be friends with Heavy, pretty bird? Am sorry I almost kill you." 

Archimedes did not reply. But he did gift Heavy's head with white droppings. 

". . . You are lucky you have pretty Doctor," Grumbled the Heavy, wiping his head of the glob and storming off. 

". . . Coo"


	5. First Dinner Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to a hello kitty store today and spent $70. I'm an adult, and will spend my money however I damn well please.  
> Also, I'm in the process of a bush medicine smut. For no reason at all. Besides being a creep.  
> (Also, sorry if the ending is a little rushed. I finished this chapter at like 2am. I might skim over before posting so hopefully not too many mistakes)
> 
> And please, look up Quarkkäulchen, it looks delicious and if you haven't heard of it...please do.

The Heavy regrets everything.

He regrets being so weak at saying no, least of all towards the Medic. He regrets the easy access the German was given into (literally) his heart. The man was elbows deep into the Heavy's barreled chest, oohing and laughing at the pulsing, slimy organs below him. Despite the small jolts of nerves, what Heavy felt most of all was complete disturbance. In his life time, he had been shot, starved, and tormented, but none of those events related to the bare, intrusive feeling like now. To feel the walls of his rib cage touched and bones horrifically prodded, along with the view of his bold red organs bulging out was quite a shock.

Yet somehow, he wasn't against this. Somehow, he did not argue when being woken at 12am by the Doctor telling him that he required assistance. He never said a word when coaxed onto an operating table by a hysterical Medic that drank his 5th cup of tea and pranced around the Russian. He never even bothered to protest when Archimedes swooped down and clawed his head, with Medic apologizing and saying the dove was simply cranky. 

Was it because the time spent together counted as bonding? Heavy made a variety of gags and gurgles, but mostly stayed quiet. The Medic, however, was happily vocal and spoke nonstop about his observations. It's sad to say, but every time the German complimented the great muscles and heart of his patient, the semi-aware Heavy was secretly flattered. A voice in the back of his skull reminded Heavy that this really wasn't a healthy style of bonding. But really, he was fine with it; the Heavy trusted him in the battlefield. It only makes sense to feel the same way outside the fights.

"Doktor? How much more until check up is done?" Slurred the Heavy, relishing the numbing effects of the medigun aimed at him.

"Almost done! I am going to try one more experiment."

Heavy threw his head back. "What more does Doktor need?"

Medic held up a simple, prodding device that was connected to the medigun above. "I must see the internal affects the body has with a small charge. It will feel like electricity- trust me, I tried! ... Oh, don't make that face, mein freunde! A small dosage feels quite exhilarating! I used to sting myself to stay awake for exams in medical school!" reminisced the Medic, cackling away at the silliness of youth.  
Despite the Heavy wanting to shake his head and reject the last experiment, he couldn't help but chuckle at the Medic's comment. While the Doctor fiddled with the medigun's charge dosage, Heavy spoke up softly."Was school hard for you Doktor?" He asked nonchalantly.

Medic paused, eyes squinted and looking at the ceiling, gaze returned by the dozens of birds above. "Well...yes and no, is my answer to that. I passed fairly well, I was even top of my class! However, I was not very keen on the education system as a whole. I always had disputes with my professors; naive criticisms over the methods of learning. But academics were always easy; it was the method of learning I disagreed on." lectured Medic.

Before initiating the charge onto flesh, the Medic made a quick one-over to his fridge. He opened and was pleased to see the replacement organs in case the heavy's heart failed to withstand the voltage. But before he closed the door, something caught the Medic's eye. The German opened the fridge again, and noticed that on the middle tray laid a pantry dish labelled "BLU Spy head".

But there was no BLU Spy head.

The Medic froze, completely voiceless. Soon, a terror-stricken gasp left his throat, and his eyes were blown wide open. "...Mein Gott" Whispered the Medic. Despite being dazed, the Heavy could feel the air go thick. He cranked his neck up, blurry vision only letting him see the Doctor's back. 

"Is something wrong Doktor?"

"Spy."

Heavy jumped in his seat, organs ready to spill, but was too alarmed to notice. "There is Spy? Where!?" Medic shook his head, and turned to Heavy swiftly. Once the bewilderment settled down, Medic began to think rationally. When he brought the Spy head into the base, it was the day of the first battle. That was 3 days ago. Logically, the Head would be dead, since he was no longer gaining enough oxygen. Medic was originally going to perform onto the BLU Spy what the Heavy was currently doing. Yes...he must be dead by now, and hopefully re-spawned back in the BLU base ('hopefully' is so that no teammate learns he brought a semi-alive enemy into the base). No wonder he felt something was amiss in the morning. 

"No, no...it's fine. The Spy is dead," concluded Medic, taking a deep breath. He was honestly disappointed; he never should have drank when responsibilities were at hand. The Heavy was still alarmed, and Medic had no desire to make a huge mess in his lab over a simple experiment.  
"Please," began the Medic, "Let's continue shall we? Did you go to school somewhere, Herr Heavy?"  
Heavy was taken aback; the Medic was acting as if he'd been confronted with his sins just a few seconds ago. Nonetheless, the Medic had told his share of a story, so Heavy supposed he return the favor. "Da; went to college in Soviet. PhD in Literature."  
Medic raised a brow, "Interesting. Pardon my words, but I would not have taken you as an someone interested in that field." It was poor compliment, but it was nice to see the Medic lean forward, expression lit with curiosity and eyes telling Heavy to continue.

“Always had interest in literature. Reading, like many things, was luxury; especially when you kill for a living,” mused Heavy. “Books take you to other worlds, no?”

Medic nodded in understanding, mindlessly resting his bare hands over the Heavy’s ribcage and stroking over them. “I completely agree,” the Medic’s face turned somber for a moment, and huffed. “I also recall, in my youth, we were given a strict selection of literature. The government took control of the books provided in public. Many writers left, since works that were disproved of by the law held...consequences.” Medic sighed and poked away at organs. The dosage was set, but it was nice to talk to someone. “My grandmother had an old book of fairy tales that she would read me. It was worn and yellow and felt like a brick. She was born around 1870, if I’m not mistaken.” The Medic jabbed the heavy’s heart with the device, who grunted at the jolts of electricity. The heart accelerated and the Medic took pressure off the beating organ. “But of course, even the most innocent leisure's were used for political propaganda.” He jabbed again, pleased that Heavy’s organs were indeed absorbing the small charges. 

As bitter words were spoken, ruffling from above could be heard. Archimedes popped his head out of his little bird house, awoken by the coos of his brethren. He wobbled out and stood on the high rafters, poking at nearby pals for an update. The bird puffed up as his friends cooed out that Wenzel was cutting open a fat man. Archimedes looked down and, lo’ and behold, there was Wenzel, hand on cheek, and chatting casually with the large bald man from before. 

The pigeon swore in his language, causing the other birds to fly away. Why was he still in the lab? This man has been coming in and out at an alarming rate. And Wenzel was happy to let the man waltz in. Others came in too. The crazy one, the smelly one, the devil, the drunk one, the fast one, the chubby one, and the Frenchman. But the fat man (not to be confused with the chubby man) was the most exclusive of all. For being so intimidating, he seemed to turn shy and humble around Wenzel. At least Wenzel taught him respect (in what way, Archimedes did not know).

As the bird bobbed up and down at the pair down below, his beady little eyes caught the gleam of fresh meat down below. He slowly stretched his wings and knew what to do. As the bird crept down to get closer, the glow of electricity began to die off. Medic wiped his brow and patted the dizzy Heavy’s shoulder. 

“Well done! You are as marvelous as they come, Heavy!”

“Ssannk you docktor…” rumbled the woozy Heavy. 

As the Medic reached to raise the medigun’s effect, he paused and looked back down at the reattaching chest. With a second thought, the Medic instead lowered the medigun and slowed down the speeding process.  
Heavy watched the Medic leave momentarily, fumbling around and opening drawers in his back drawers. “Doktor? Something wrong?”

“Oh no, I simply decided that I would stitch you up myself!” replied the Medic cheerfully, “there’s no reason I should depend on the medigun for such a simply process. I am a Doctor, after all.” As the Medic continued his search for a needle, he heard a ‘splat’ noise and the heart monitor went flat instantaneously. 

Instinct caused him to forget respawn, and the moment the line went dead, Medic spun on his heels and dashed to the operating table. Wide eyes scanned and he noticed the Heavy (who was limp and with a tongue laying out) had shifted. Another obvious note was the intestines pulled out, and the heart poked numerous times. And as the Medic inched closer, he heard gooey, smacking sounds underneath the Heavy’s organs. He reached a hand out and pulled the spleen up. 

There in front of him was his beloved, white dove, drenched in the blood of a dead man and sleeping perfectly fine. Specks of meat could be found coated on the bird’s beak. Medic leaned up, whispered a confused “Was?” and looked back down. He gently scooped the bird up and cupped him in his hands. “Archimedes?” he said. The bird pecked at the Medic’s hand, rudely awakened (again) and very cranky. 

“Oh...dear” whispered Medic, looking between his bird and his Heavy. He connected the dots and stared in disbelief. His little bird just killed a powerful, 6ft 5’, tank of a man. The Medic was in complete shock. 

The Heavy’s corpse began to fade until Medic stood alone in his lab, with his angry bird at hand. Once the corpse was gone, Medic made a dash to the respawn room, indifferent to waking up any teammates. Archimedes was placed on a stand until his fluttered clumsily onto Wenzel’s shoulder. The dove was bracing himself as Wenzel ran down the hallways. He didn’t know Wenzel was so fast! The colors zoomed by and all the bloodied dove could do was begin singing away.

Medic kicked the doors open and in the center of the respawn room stood Heavy. He was motionless and disoriented, standing straight. He blinked a few times and after a couple seconds, he jumped and was hyper aware. He looked around hysterically until he was suddenly slapped on his back multiple times. 

He turned and saw the Medic’s pink face and glimmering blue eyes. A smile cracked, and the Medic bursted out laughing and holding his stomach.

“My bird killed you!” he roared, slapping his own knee and snickering at the whole scenario. “Doktor is not funny!” cried the Heavy, who was cut off by more laughter. Eventually, the sharp, tenor laughs died off and the Medic wiped his eyes, beaming. He was met with an indignant russian with crossed arms and scowl. Medic pouted and squeezed the Heavy’s shoulder. “Oh I’m so sorry Mein Heavy. Vergib mir, bitte?” cooed the Medic. It made the Heavy feel sour to see that damned bird completely fine with the whole thing, preening his feathers and even staring dead-on at the Heavy. The nerve.

“Medic’s bird is evil.”

Medic playfully gasped and covered his mouth. “Ach! How could you say that? Archimedes is so cute!” he replied, grabbing the bird with one hand and holding it up to heavy’s face. Archimedes bite the Heavy’s nose in response. 

Heavy was still upset. It annoyed him to see how Medic took the ordeal. Of course, this was expected of him. But Heavy secretly assumed that Medic would at least be more caring; especially after spending a good, half hour of talking about their pasts and laughing away over random topics. 

With an exhausted sigh, Medic’s shoulders slumped. “Ok, ok. I’m truly sorry Heavy. I have no idea why...that happened.” Silenced loomed and as the pair stood in front of one another, Medic rocked on his heels and sniffled. 

“I ahh...assume you aren’t very sleepy anymore?”

“Yes. Will have trouble going to bed. Not after that thing,” Heavy directed his glare to Archimedes, “tried killing me.”

“Actually, he did kill you- rather efficiently!-” Medic quickly hushed as the Heavy now glared at him. “So, like I was saying. I believe we were to have dinner last time, ja?”

“Dinner? Late at night?”

“Of course! We agreed over dinner a few days ago, remember?” recalled the Medic. “I think you were drunk that day, Doktor,” interrupted the Heavy. Medic feigned a sad, puppy look. “Oh? Is that your way of avoiding our date?” Heavy flinched and turned red; he couldn’t tell if the Medic was clueless or cruel. He seemed like the type that could do both.

“Нет. It’s just...you are hungry?” 

“A little bit. Would it be odd to say that performing open heart surgeries give me an appetite?” 

“...Yes it does. But will not judge,” replied the Heavy. It was an uncomfortable statement, but Heavy really couldn’t say anything mean to the Medic. 

After a mutual agreement, the two men made up and made their way to the kitchen. As Medic discussed the experiment and the events leading to Heavy’s death, the Heavy was secretly nervous. It’s possible the Doctor was being cheeky and calling it a ‘date’ for fun; but the idea of spending even more, intimate time with his intelligent, charismatic Medic was exciting and terrifying. At least in the med lab, they had many things to build a conversation with, like the surgery. But here they were, in a kitchen, with the Heavy being faced with the task of having normal, light chatting.

At the kitchen, Medic looked through the cupboards and pantry. Heavy simply made his way to the fridge. “What are you getting?” inquired the Medic. Heavy opened the fridge, “Get sandvich and go to bed,” he shrugged.

Medic gagged. “Ach! I see you eat that every day! Does it not get repetitive?” Heavy looked into the fridge; a perfectly crafted sandvich sat on a plate. “No. Is good sandvich. You try before?”

“A sandvich? Of course I have, just not every day.”

“Never eat Heavy’s sandvich before. It’s delicious, I show you!” Began the Heavy, now taking out ingredients to make the Medic a sandwich.

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, then so be it. I’ll make something more filling” claimed the Medic, with a clap of his hands. “I looked around and I believe I can make us a quick meal; have you ever tried quarkkäulchen, Herr Heavy?”

And with that, the two busied themselves with preparing their meals at 2 in the morning, making leisure comments over their battles and the team. Heavy would talk about how eerie the Pyro was, the Medic admitted that he was planning to put Soldier on medication, and overall the two agreed that the Scout was a nuisance. 

A soft coo could be heard, and the Heavy noticed Medic occasionally making baby noises at his bird. He'd lay out tiny pieces of cheese and watch Archimedes pick it up and hand it back. The Medic would laugh and eat the piece himself before he returned to mashing up potatoes. Prior to cooking, the Medic had removed his lab coat, and slipped on an apron that was folded in the pantry. With the formal slacks, vest and rolled up dress shirt, the Medic looked beautifully elegant even while cooking. The Heavy would cast glances at the nice curve going down his back and the soft bulge of his biceps. While slicing a tomato, the Heavy foolishly daydreamed at how nice it'd look to see a domestic Doctor happily cooking. 

Unknown to the Russian, the Medic would stare back as well sometimes. It was frightening to see how well he and the Heavy got along. Class-wise, it was typical to see a tank and a healer stay close in a symbiotic unite. But it was another thing to the Doctor when it equated with normal scenarios. The silence between the two grew, but the Medic appreciated the company. He rarely favored company, but felt no desire to throw the other man away. If his gaze lingered at the broad shoulders, then he'd feel a sharp pinch on his thumb by Archimedes. When this was done, the Heavy would notice the Medic hissing a lecture at the dove.

"Where did you get bird?" Asked the Heavy, trying to start somewhere.

"Oh, Archimedes?" He let the dove perch on the side of the bowl, and proceeded to crack an egg into the bowl, mixing it alongside the potatoes and cheese. "I found him in a van I stole," he concluded cheerfully.

"...what?"

"It's a silly story," chuckled the Medic, tossing in raisins and leaning down to pre-heat the oven. "You see, my wife and I hadn't worked it out. We went our own ways until one day, she sent a postcard to my family. My brother told me she was getting married. Of course the woman wanted to add salt to the wounds, and ironically, I was already planning on leaving the country."

"You had wife?" asked the Heavy, face set and masked with a simple question. He panicked inside. 

"Yes! But I don't believe we loved each other very much. But enough about her!" The Medic bent down to turn the stove on. "So, being a relatively young man, I reacted quite emotionally. I recall buying a bottle of wine and hopping on my brother's motorcycle, sedated a man, stole his van, and 'crashed' the wedding!" The Medic snickered at the pun, but the Heavy kept silent.

"When I kept driving, it turned out I stole the catering van for doves. I was a mess after whole ordeal, and I found I liked birds! So I kept them" laughed the Medic. "Now that I think about it, following my instincts was the best thing I had done. I have kept these birds for some years now." The Medic gently stroked Archimedes' back. The bird cooed in reciprocation. He couldn't hate his Wenzel when he was being sweet. 

Heavy nodded softly, unaware of the significance of that demonic bird. "What about now?"

Archimedes fluttered randomly to the top of the cabinet. Medic turned around. "What do you mean?"

"Never fall in love again?"

"Oh." Medic went silent for a bit, eyes darting around and considering words. "Well...besides the wife, no I don't believe I did. I was too engrossed with work, traveling. Not to mention, the illegal bit would not have gone well," he laughed nervously. "What about you? No love back in Russia?" countered the Doctor, flouring mush from the bowl.

"Too much time running as well. Had responsibility with family," replied the Heavy. He reached for the slice of meat he left on the side to stack the sandvich, but found no meat. He frowned at this and went to the fridge to get more. "Seems that is everyone's case here," muttered the Medic, "Not that I have a problem with that- it comes with the mercenary job."

"Except Scout."

"Except Scout," agreed the Medic, chuckling. "So, you have family?" began the Medic. As the Heavy prepared the sandvich, he found the slice of tomato from earlier had disappeared. He looked suspiciously at his surroundings. The Medic hadn't moved from his spot. It soon occurred to the Heavy that the Medic's bird was not around anymore. "Doktor, where is Archimedes?"

Medic looked above his head, then to his sides, and shrugged. "I do not know. That bird has a mind of his own! He probably is sleeping somewhere, it's past his bedtime, poor thing." As the Medic cooked the cakes, he was unaware that his bird left the kitchen entirely.

Archimedes flew around the silent base, trying to remember the locations of each merc. He was sick of this. Sick of Wenzel spending too much time on the Heavy. Sick of how they both looked at each other and laughing. He flew up the stairs, recalling the sounds of soda's popping open and fast footsteps. Archimedes perched onto an ajar door and peeped in. Inside was the young, annoying thing. He had knocked the covers off and was sprawled on the mattress with a comic book on his belly. He wore boxers and a shirt, with his baseball cap covering his eyes. Archimedes swooped in and landed on his stomach. The dove wobbled across the Scout until he fluttered onto his forehead. The bird looked down and stared into the dark abyss of the Scout's drooling mouth. In a quick motion, the bird took hold of the upper lip and brutally forced it up.

The Scout stirred at this and lazily waved a hand on his face. Archimedes bit harder and broke the skin. The Scout instantly shot up and yelped, looking around wildly before seeing a bird fly out of his room. "What the hell!?" screeched Scout, rubbing his bleeding lip and jumping out his bed. "Get your ass back here ya' stinkin' bird!" cried the youth, nearly tripping over his own, discarded shoes. 

Upon hearing distant shouts, the Soldier instantly sat up. "Dear God..." he whispered to himself. Soldier suited up into his uniform- leaving out his pants- and ran out of his bunker, shot gun and shovel on either hand. "THE ENEMY IS ATTACKING US!" Soldier roared this as he ran around the base. No one woke up.

Eventually, he found the Scout practically leaping across the base. "SCOUT!" Yelled the Soldier, catching the Scout's attention and running up to the him. "SCOUT! I see you are awake and in your underwear as well!" Before responding, it took the Scout a moment to register that both were indeed in their undergarments- and that he had chosen to wear his superman-printed boxers that day. Scout groaned in embarrassment, but quickly hushed as the Soldier slapped him across the face and got in front of him.

"THERE IS NO TIME TO BE IN SHAME OF YOUR SISSY UNDERWEAR, SCOUT. WE ARE BEING ATTACKED. I HEARD THE CRIES OF A LITTLE GIRL THAT NEEDS OUR AMERICAN ASSISTANCE." 

"Okay, first off pal, I do not scream like a little girl," claimed the Scout, shoving the Soldier away. "Second of all, yeah, that was me. Some damn bird bit me or somethin'! Could you believe that! A bird! At like, 2 in the fricken morning!"

"It must be an enemy bird, sent to analyze our base and find our weakness!" claimed the Soldier. "Scout, do you think the Spy can disguise as a bird?" Scout shrugged, making the Soldier more paranoid. "There's a damn, traitorous bird in this base, and I want it DEAD." 

"If you wish to find your culprit, then perhaps the kitchen will have your answers," said the Spy, decloaking from the shadows, wearing a fancy bathrobe and cigarette between fingers. "Of course! The enemy would want to eat all of our food, starve us, and make us weak for the next battle! Why those depraved BASTARDS!" narrated Soldier. He cocked his gun and marched towards the kitchen. Scout watched the Soldier leaving, and the Spy gestured quietly to the runner to follow the Soldier. 

"You know what's goin' on, right?"

"The Medic's bird bit your lip."

"Well yeah I SAW that, but like...why? What the hell is happening," Scout frowned, "And why the hell am I not sleeping!?" He pointed dramatically at the Spy, "And what the hell are YOU doing awake anyways!?" Spy rolled his eyes and whisked the offending hand away. "I am always watching Scout. Always present. One step ahead," The Frenchman blew a puff of smoke into the Scout's face. "Now please make sure your comrade does not kill anything. I do wish to see our Docteur turn aggressive." 

Scout sighed tiredly, and ran off to the kitchen. The Spy stood for a moment, considering the option of going back to bed. He simply decloaked and kept a watchful eye instead. He blinked a few times, trying to get the blurriness away. His entire system begged to return to bed, but the Spy could never ignore a commotion within his team. He tried to believe that it was from a desire to have his team work in union, and not allow TOO much chaos, instead of the feeling of actual care. He decloaked for a moment to take another inhale of his cigarette, assuming everything worked out judging from the silence. He rounded the corner and peeked into the kitchen. 

Inside the brightly lit, messy kitchen was the Scout and Soldier sitting on the table, plate in front of them and grinning. An annoyed Medic waltzed over to the offense pair and piled stacks of curd cake on their plates. The Medic left and returned, scolding them for not waiting for the sugar and cinnamon to be added. As the Doctor grew more impatient, the Heavy sat at the end of the table, just as upset as the Medic. He chomped on his Sandvich and glared hatefully at the Scout and Soldier for barging in (not wearing pants) and ruining their time together (or as Medic worded it, their "date"). As he ate his beloved Sandvich, the Heavy realized that Archimedes returned just a few moments before the Soldier came in. 

Heavy eyed the bird, who was nibbling away at the sunflower seed laid out on the kitchen counter. He was clearly feeling pleased for staying up past his bedtime, feeling like some kind of dove-rebel. Did the bird have something to do with this? Did he intentionally make a scene and wanted to break their alone time. The Heavy shook his head. He was a big man, but contrary to belief, he was no bumbling oaf either. The bird couldn't have consciously made some attempt at...whatever roused their teammates awake. Perhaps he and the Medic had made too much noise with the talking and laughing? But that wouldn't explain the screaming, or Scout's cursing. 

"Well? Won't you join us while you are present?" Asked the Medic to no one.

"...Very well," spoke the Spy in silent defeat. He strode to the table and sat across from the Scout and Soldier, formally crossing his arms and legs. "I would be honored to try some quarkkäulchen, Docteur." The Heavy slapped his forehead, displeased that more people have shown up. The Spy had asked only for one cake, and cut it in half with diligence. He took small bites while his comrades swallowed the cakes whole.

"Is there anymore little men joining us tonight?" Asked Heavy sarcastically. A small "Mmph" was heard at the kitchen entrance. The Pyro stood, wearing a red onesie and holding a pink, stuffed unicorn in its hand. Heavy let his head fall as the Pyro sat down next to the Spy. "...At least you had the decency of wearing pants," commented Spy. The Pyro gave a thumbs up and was pleased to be given a glass of milk and a straw to sip from. It poked the straw through the breathing slots and sipped away, sticking it's pinky out.

The Heavy shut up, holding his words in fear of having the whole team suddenly show up. With a tired sigh, the Medic suddenly claimed that he was going to retire for the night. This surprises Heavy and before man could ask, the Medic simply yawned and rubbed weary eyes. He took Archimedes with him and bid goodnight over his shoulder.

Heavy remained seated, staring at the Doctor's leaving presence. Before dissappearing, Archimedes turned around, perched on Wenzel's shoulder, and stared directly at the Heavy. The Russian gapped when the bird nuzzled himself against the Medic's neck, still eyeing the lonesome Heavy. 

"I sense a romantic quarrel at hand," stated the Spy, feeling guilty for snatching a second quarkkäulchen to consume. Heavy looked at the Spy, confused. "What do you mean by that." 

"I think you know what I mean by that." Heavy gulped nervously. 

"Well...all I know is that I don't like that bird," replied Soldier. "He is a setback to this entire team!" 

"Mmph." 

"That bird is an asshole." 

"Bird is evil," Said Heavy to himself. He looked at the kitchen counter, where the Medic's sandvich was left cold and uneaten. His annoyance melted into complete defeat. He and the Doctor are getting along so well! The Russian felt he had accomplished much today. It was risky to say, but he felt that maybe even the Medic has begun liking him back. The Heavy was hopeful this was the case, what with the glances and faint comments made while alone together. 

"Well, it seems no animals were harmed in all of this. I will also bid you all bonne nuit," concluded the Spy. As he left the dishes in the sink, he patted the Heavy's shoulder. "Good luck," he said, swiftly before decloaking. 

"...Why the hell does he f*cking decloak like that? Creepy ass Spy..." muttered the Scout. "Hey Heavy? Can I eat that sandwich over there?" Asked Scout, pointing to the Sandwich from before. 

"нет. Sandvich is for Medic." 

"But he ain't even here! He didn't eat it, so why waste it?" 

Heavy quickly rose in his seat and walked over to the sandwich. He put the sandwich into the fridge and slammed it shut. "Medic will eat sandvich later. Besides, you already eat Heavy’s quarkkäulchen." 

"Wait, this was all for you?" Asked the Scout, surprised by the stacks of cakes made. Soldier stopped mid-feast to look up at the discussion. 

"Doctor and I make food together to eat." 

"So what, we're you two on a date or somethin'?" Replied Scout, chucking soon after from his comment. Heavy did not reply, and simply got up to leave wordlessly. Scout had expected the Russian to yell in his face or to toss him across the table. Upon silence being met, Scout gasped and made an 'O' shape with his mouth. He hopped from his seat and ran off, hitting his head multiple times for being dense. 

Soldier and Pyro remained seated alone. Soldier turned to the pyromaniac and then to the bowl of quarkkäulchen. 

"These are mine." 

"MMPH-MMHMM-RMMRMM!!!." 

Soldier jumped at the angry "Mmph" speech. Never has he heard such hateful words, and he even served in war! With newfound terror, the two decided to split the amount and go about their midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one took a while to upload for a few reasons. Besides work (and my cockatiel running away), I was trying to ensure I was obtaining factual, historical info. I didn't want to make any mistakes, and after a while I decided to just tip-toe around certain topics and give soft-hints towards past speakings. After all, this fic isn't supposed to be serious or gritty! It's stupidity and fluff! The Medic is a controversial one; however, Valve states that he's not a n*zi, so I'm going to stick with that.  
> Also, the Grandma being born around the 1870's? That was based on calculations. For the Medic's age (this can also used with the Soldier) he is currently in his late 40's in the TF2 time line (1960-70's). So that means between 1950-60 he's in his 30's. So in 1950 and majority of ww2, Medic is in late teen and early adult age (early 20's), and then childhood was around 1920-30.  
> So let's estimate that his parents were about 25 yrs old when he was born (RE: estimating). If the Medic was born around 1910-20, that means his parents were born around 1885-95. If we go back further (approximately another 25yrs), then his grandparents were possibly born around 1865-70's.  
> The point of all this? Nothing :D


	6. The first fight 'n flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. Lots of thing came up, but I'll admit that I was kinda lazy, despite having written the draft for this chapter a while ago.
> 
> Soooo I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that I have decided that this fic will only have 2 more chapters left until completion (I may do 3 chapters, but I have to organize it). I also pulled the time skip stunt, which hopefully doesn't bug people. The act alone almost caused me to delay this chapter and add kind of a filler before posting this. But I couldn't think of anything and decided to stick with this chapter.  
> Anyways, I guess this is bad news because this story has been a lot of fun to write. But I guess all good things must come to an end. Besides, it's better then having a story that never finished and leaves you hanging.
> 
> But the good news is that once I'm done with The Cockblocking Archimedes, I have some more TF2 related fics I want to try writing. But I don't want to multitask a bunch of stories, so I'm doing one at a time. I'm not starting anything until CBA is finished. So again, sorry for the delay, especially because I feel like this chapter was a little short... :/
> 
> (On a side note, the burly beast ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) As a medic main I approve. )

"My ultimate weapon..." murmured Heavy, "This will be most bloody, killing machine to ever exist! Right Doktor?" 

"Well, it is _quite menacing,"_ chuckled Medic, looking over the Heavy's head. His hands rested comfortably on the Russian's shoulder, and his face was inches away from the Heavy's. The close proximity would've been odd, but after 6 months of working, laughing, and dying together, the two had bonded immensely over time. It even became clear to their teammates that the Heavy weapons Guy and the Medic went from comrades to near symbiosis beings, both on and off the battle field. Whenever Medic had an idea, his first thought was to go to the Heavy. If the man agreed to be his guinea pig (again), it just meant more time for the pair to chat casually. Of course, 'casually' was an odd way to phrase it. 

Conversations ranged from philosophies and battle tactics to the weather and idea's for the next dinner date. It drifted off to silly jokes being cracked or a random coffee break in the middle of surgery. And after surgeries, Heavy would be requested to stay in order to "check" his vitals. Of course, Medic would stay true to his word, but most of the time used "examining" was really spent for games of chess, or reading while playing the Medic's gramophone (every time Medic said that word, Scout would laugh and call him an 'old man' for not simply calling it a record player). 

It had been a blessing for the Heavy. Not only had his desire to bond with the Doctor succeed, it turned out to be easier then expected. Despite being a man of few words, he found the time spent together flowed naturally, almost perfectly. Any anxieties prior to an interaction would melt away, and Heavy would simply laugh along to the Medic's brutal tales of his time as a licensed Doctor. 

Heavy was grateful for the Medic's time; however, the only issue remaining was the one thought he kept buried away. The issue being the nervous quakes when the Medic took his hand, pinched his cheeks, or mocked the man by placing a quick peck on his injuries (and would proceed to laugh at the Russian's expression). 

Once, when the Medic's leg blew off from a sticky bomb, the Heavy nervously carried the legless Doctor bridal-style to the base (Medic mindlessly thanked the Heavy, who was panicking from both the Doctor's paling form, and having the Doctor's arms wrapped around his neck). Upon reaching the base, the Medic was able to heal himself and eventually have a functioning leg back. He thanked the Heavy, who was pleased of rescuing his Doctor, until Medic pointed out that Heavy's hand slipped and groped his behind the entire sprint back. Heavy nearly died from embarrassment as the Medic cackled away. 

The worst was during surgeries, when the Medic dangerously hovered over the Heavy, and the poor man was forced to watch faint flexes of muscle, and a firm, broad chest from above. They were so close that the Heavy had plentiful whiffs of the Medic's spicy, aromatic cologne and clean aftershave. He could feel warm, minty breaths flutter across his bare chest, and surrendered to those beautiful blue eyes analyzing him. It was so intense that the Medic would look down, see the red-face man, and naively ask if the Heavy was having an allergic reaction to something. 

Overall, it seemed the Medic had a fondness for tormenting the Heavy. And for the life of him, the Slav couldn't tell if the Medic shared a mutual sentiment. Even now, in the most calm of moments, as Heavy sat on a stool in the Medic's lab, he shivered at Medic's close presence. He didn't know if he should say something. For many nights, the Heavy laid awake, dreaming of scenarios in which he'd confess his undeniable love for the Doctor. Perhaps it was due to inner conflicts, but his dreams hardly ended well. Some ended in Medic kicking the Russian off the cliff. Another where the Medic became a cannibal and ate his raw organs, and one where Medic filled his head with candy and used Scout's bat to bash it like a pinata. Despite the grittiness, none compared to the dream where Medic responded more humanly; a disgusted expression and a homophobic remark, followed by an abrupt heel turn. Nightmare after nightmare; but the latter was what frightened Heavy the most. 

"Heavy?" 

Heavy jumped, looking over his shoulder, forgetting that the Medic remained close. A gentle head-butt was met, and Medic simply blinked and fixed his glasses. "Dazed again I see; sometimes I would like to open your skull and see what you are dreaming about..." Snickered the Medic, walking around to pull up a seat and sit beside the larger man. "I was inquiring what you will call him," stated Medic. 

Heavy had almost forgotten his prize at hand. He looked back down, and ran a thumb over his newest 'killing machine'. 

A tiny, red army robin, seated comfortably on the Heavy's gigantic palm. Feeling the brush against his feathers, the robin opened its large, brown eyes and stared endearingly up at the two men. The robin may have been small, but it felt no worries as he gazed above. In his small bird mind, the robin could only think how adorable the pair of humans were. They were as close as a mama and papa. In black and white film, the little bird could only picture how cute the pair was if they were on a date; how perfect their contrasting image was- one large and scary, the other small and nerdy. 

The little bird had been abandoned when the Heavy toured the town of Teufort. He peeped inside a tiny cardboard box, shaking and huddled into a corner, no mama or papa around. He only saw them once, until they flew away, never to return. A giant hand took hold of him, and the robin assumed he had been done for- until the large hand wrapped him up in a piece of cloth, gave him food, and allowed him to sleep in a comfortable cage. It was then, that the bird fell in love with the Heavy Weapons Guy, and the Heavy vice versa. 

"Chicken Kiev." 

Medic frowned. "Chicken...Kiev?" 

"да." 

"That was the meal you made last time?" 

"Correct." 

"You are naming your bird...Chicken Kiev," repeated Medic, making it clear Heavy knew what he was doing. 

"Is good food. And this," Heavy raised the newly named Chicken Kiev up to the Medic's face, "This...is good bird." Medic rolled his eyes, but smiled. He took Chicken Kiev into his hand and patted the bird's back. 

"Well it sounds...cute, I suppose." 

A friendly elbow hit Medic's forearm. "Am sorry name is not smart sounding like 'Archimedes'!" joked the Heavy. Despite the elbow being a tease, it never ceased to amuse the German just how much strength the Heavy unknowingly had, even by accident. A bruise began to blossom on his arm, but Medic brushed it off, knowing how guilty Heavy became from injuries. 

"Ack! Now when I see this bird, I will only think about food!" complained Medic, placing the bird back on the Heavy's open palm. 

"Please don't eat bird," replied Heavy, "will promise to cook an eternity for you- but don't eat little bird." Heavy poked the Medic's abdomen, "Or else you must cut open your own stomach," Heavy paused, musing the idea. "Actually, not bad idea! Is payback for times Archimedes get in Heavy's chest." 

"Has my madness infected you?" replied the Medic, genuinely surprised, borderline ready to giggle. 

"Already drive me mad Doctor." 

"Pardon?" 

"Nothing," interrupted Heavy, switching the subject. "So, eat bird!" he put Chicken Kiev close to Medic's mouth, "I dare you Doktor!" 

Medic laughed and pushed the hands away. Suddenly, Chicken Kiev flapped his tiny wings and clumsily sat on Heavy's head. Medic cackled at the bizarre sight of the huge man with his tiny bird; his cheeks turned pink, and the thought of Heavy taking Kiev with him to battle was even more funny. 

Upon hearing the endless laughter and unbearable flirting, Archimedes popped his head out of his little, wooden home on an upper shelf. He cocked his head and immediately took note of the new bird in the base. Archimedes wobbled out and met up with his flock. After a quizzical coo, Archimedes learned that this bird belonged to the fat man. It seemed he took an inspiration from Wenzel and got one himself. 

Archimedes then asked how long the fat man had been in the lab; the other dove's spoke among themselves, and estimated that he has been here for hours now. In the morning, he assisted Wenzel in carrying some equipment into the lab, then they had lunch, followed by a secret preview of an experiment Wenzel had in mind. Now, here stood the bald man showing off his new little bird to the excited Medic. 

Archimedes shook his head. With the time passed, the fat man's presence lingered longer then yesterday. It's bad enough he's trying to steal Wenzel; now the rest of the dove's have taken a liking to the Russian. Archimedes felt like a betrayed soldier in war. His men have run in favor of being with the enemy. The evil, disgusting, fat man getting his big, grimy hands on his beautiful doctor. It was made clear to Archimedes that he was loosing the battle. 

But like a soldier in battle, a battle tactic must be made. It was only a matter of time until Archimedes unfolds his ultimate strike against the Russian. His plan had been thought over many times, and only now would be the perfect time to make a move, thanks to Wenzel completing his experiments. So as stealthily as he could, Archimedes remained perched, and waited patiently. 

As he waited, his thoughts began bugging him again. Couldn't Wenzel have chosen someone better looking at least? Personally, Archimedes felt that the skinny man with sunglasses would be a better companion for Wenzel. He was handsome. And he owned an Owl. That seemed quite promising. 

"The enemy has grown formidable," began Medic, voice now steady with the cease of laughter. He held Kiev in his locked hands, who kept looking his new surroundings. 

"It's as though we neither progress or fail," he turned to the Heavy, "And frankly, it's become quite a bore." 

"Doktor want to see new ways to kill?" Snickered Heavy. 

"Oh you know me too well!" cooed Medic, standing up and pinching the Heavy's cheek endearingly. He placed Chicken Kiev on Heavy's head and went to his desk. "Besides an innocent curiosity, I have been told to create a more...effective battle strategy- particularly from that crazed Soldier," commented Medic, looking through filing cabinets, and rolling his eyes at the mention of the class. "Which is fine by me! All the more excuses to do whatever I want!" He replied enthusiastically. 

Suddenly, the Medic's smile dropped when he reached the end of the filing cabinet. His fingers halted and he frowned. "Wait..." he muttered, double checking the multiple files kept in his desk. He pace quickened, eyes widening as he began to open random drawers all around his lab. Heavy caught on to the Medic's quirky behavior, and stood up and perched Chicken Kiev on the stool he sat on. 

"Doktor, what's wrong?" 

"I can't find it," 

"Find what?" 

"The blueprints I showed you earlier! I put them in my desk!" Exclaimed Medic, chest heaving faster. 

"Maybe you misplace somewhere?" 

"No no no! I would not- I have never done that! Who else was here today?" 

Heavy paused. "Scout came in to tell us it was lunch time..." 

Medic's face hardened, and stood still and silent for a few seconds. He then stormed off, heels clicking sharply on to the floor, and fists curled up. Heavy froze at the change in demeanor, and quickly trailed after the Doctor. 

Before leaving the room, the Heavy gave a longing expression to Chicken Kiev. "Be good little bird," commanded Heavy at the doorway. The robin simply peeped in return, and the Heavy nodded and left the lab. 

Chicken Kiev watched his owner leave, and grew worried. He couldn't believe he was abandoned so fast! Perhaps if he stayed put, his owner would come back. The little bird decided to remain still, until looking up at the rafters, where a swarm of white doves peered below. 

One of the dove's flew down and sat on the stool, across from Chicken Kiev. The Dove looked no different from the others- but it had the faint blotches of stained blood on its belly. Kiev assumed this was the leader of the Dove's. 

_"You are associated with the fat man?"_ cooed Archimedes. 

Chicken Kiev puffed up at the comment. _"I am. Please don't say that. What is this?"_

_"I am Archimedes. Ruler of the doves,"_ proclaimed Archimedes. _"I have done everything in my power to end this ridiculous quarrel between our masters. It's time I ask that you add a helping wing._

_"What quarrel? I've lived here for over 24 hours and I have seen no quarrels,"_ replied Chicken Kiev. 

_"It's been an issue I that I hopefully would've avoided...but it seems my darling Wenzel has..."_ Archimedes shuffled around, turning his back to Kiev. _"...fallen in love."_ cooed Archimedes soberly. 

_"Really!? The two love each other! Oh how sweet!"_ cheered Chicken Kiev, _"Will there be a wedding? Will there be cake!?"_

_"There shall be none of that tomfoolery!!!"_ Exclaimed Archimedes, feathers flapping intensely. 

_"Then can I marry you? You are a pretty bird!"_

_"That's absurd! And I am a taken bird, so I will reject your offer. And yes, I am pleased my sentence rhymed,"_ replied Archimedes. 

Chicken Kiev was sad that there would be no marriage whatsoever. But he did find it odd that two people who loved each other did not wish to engage. _"But why will the humans not marry? You said they loved each other."_

_"Indeed; and I hate it."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because Wenzel is too ambitious and intelligent for something as redundant as love. And since DAY ONE, that fat man has been a nuisance. He acts as if Wenzel can be swooped away and trudged off merrily, as if this were some cheesy movie..."_

Chicken Kiev shook his head; he felt confused, and especially in disagreement. It was clear this bird was nothing more then a possessive dictator, who wouldn't let Wenzel and Misha fall in love. 

And Chicken Kiev will not stand for this. 

_"Listen here!"_ He tweeted, hopping up to face a preening Archimedes. _"Just because you don't like this doesn't mean others feel the same way! Your master is in love! And all you are doing is harming his chance in happiness!"_

_"I. Am. Protecting him! I know what I'm doing!"_ Argued Archimedes. _"From the earliest days of my life, I have watched humans love and betray each other time and time again. When I first met Wenzel, he was completely mad because of a simple heartbreak,"_ Archimedes ruffled his feathers. 

_"And Wenzel...is intelligent. And daring. And fearless; he's too good for simple human sentiment. He was meant to take over the world, and mock the simple minded by being a God! Why steer such a fate just because of attractions?"_ Archimedes cooed dejectedly, _"I want him to be happy. And I know this is the way."_

Chicken Kiev shook his head, _"No. If you loved him you'd let him love. Love is beautiful. Are you saying the love you have for your human is irrelevant?"_

_"No! Not love in general; the romance! The lustful, and pathetic kind," replied Archimedes. He looked up, shame filling his beady eyes. "It hardly matters. My plan is almost complete."_

_"What plan?"_ Asked one of the dove's from the rafters. 

Archimedes said nothing, and merely flapped towards the operating table. He landed on the tiled floors and trudged under the green covers. As the room full of birds watched anxiously, Archimedes slowly emerged from underneath the table, a set of papers clasped tightly in Archimedes' beak. A commotion from above could be heard, and Chicken Kiev was put off by the dove's speaking among each other. The Dove's recognized the handwriting, the scribbles, and knew what it was. 

_"That's his!"_

_"That's papa's!"_

_"You took it! Papa is sad!"_

Archimedes continued tugging the edge of the sheets, ignoring the comments from above. The dove was was too concentrated and direct to care. It was clear the bird had a malicious intent. It could be felt in very atmosphere of the laboratory. _"It's a shame how intelligent Wenzel is, but did not think to look under the table. He's too smart for his own good."_

_"How did you get those?"_ Asked a dove. 

_"The details are not necessary,"_ Cooed Archimedes in return. 

_"What are you doing?" Asked the Kiev._

Archimedes released the pages, settling the blueprints in the middle of the room. _"Nothing much. I will bite these papers. And rip them. And leave them in the fat man's room. And Wenzel will be so upset, he will never speak to that man again,"_ concluded Archimedes, cooing his words casually and methodically. 

_"Those were the paper's Wenzel lost earlier?"_ Peeped Chicken Kiev. 

_"They are."_

_"You stole them!?"_

_"No; the fat man did."_

Chicken Kiev puffed up angrily. _"You are an evil bird!"_

_"I'm only doing what's best."_

_"Framing an innocent man?"_

_"He's not innocent,"_ replied Archimedes, _"He's a perversion and a nuisance. He's a speck of dirt that must be wiped away."_ Archimedes readied to take the pages. _"And Wenzel will discover his notes, ripped up in his room. And Wenzel will finally be back on track."_

Archimedes looked up at the rafters. _"Will someone help me carry this to the fat man's room? I know a shortcut."_

_"This is too much...This is too bad..."_ cooed one dove quietly. _"You have crossed the line brother."_

After that, none of the birds made a sound. None of them moved. And so Archimedes moved on, already accepting his isolation in the matter. He bit on the edge of the papers again, preparing to take off, until added weight was placed on the surface of the pages. The blood-stained Dove nearly tripped over, flapping his wings to balance himself. After recovering, he turned his head and saw Chicken Kiev standing firmly on the pages. 

_"I will not allow this,"_ said the robin firmly. _"My master has loved me and fed me-"_

_"For a few days,"_ interrupted Archimedes. 

_"Even so, it's more then enough. I love him. And I want him to be happy. By doing this, you are hindering the love of two people, and you must be stopped."_

_"Is that so."_

The two birds eyed each other heatedly, one daring the other to move or object. The rest of the dove's watched nervously, huddling around each other, scared, but unable to look away for the carnage that would ensue. 

In the blink of an eye, Archimedes bit the edges again and pulled, prompting Chicken Kiev to fly directly towards Archimedes. The dove released the pages and pecked at the smaller bird shoving against him. The battle had begun and the rest of the dove's were in a frenzy. All the dove's dispersed and flew around in panic, knocking test tubes and other equipment from the Medic's counters. Paper's and feathers flew and objects smashed onto the ground, and every dove flew erratically and echoed one another. 

_"There is a fight! There is a fight!"_

_"The Lord will forsaken us!"_

_"This used to be a nice neighborhood!"_

_"Call the police!- wait no we can't."_

Archimedes and Chicken Kiev took the battle to the air, both trying to violently rip the other's throat's out. All of the dove's scrambled to avoid the fight, hovering to the corners of the walls. Archimedes had more experience in terms of biting into flesh and eyeballs- doing so passionately. But Chicken Kiev was small and skittish, constantly buzzing around and nudging against the larger bird with as much force as his little body could muster. The two were a rapid combination of orange and white, swirling around one another and screeching the most heinous of sounds from their little beaks. Neither were prepared to let the other succeed, and some dove's feared that the end result would be fatal. 

The commotion from inside was so chaotic, that no bird had noticed an unknown figure enter the room. The ambiguous man crept in with ease. Admittedly, he was confused by the intense bird battle occurring, his objective having been to take the Medic's bird; he didn't expected to see this. He went against the urge to watch the fight and continued with his task, clutching a tiny bird cage he kept behind his back. 

Archimedes had proceeded to overpower the robin, and when Chicken Kiev halted his attacks, Archimedes quickly soared downwards to collect the blueprints left of the ground. Chicken Kiev made haste and flew at Archimedes. But it was then, that Chicken Kiev saw the man standing menacingly in the center. The bird screeched at the stranger, his confusion causing him to panic. 

Archimedes ignored the crying Kiev, and hopped around the tiled floors to locate the scattered blueprints. After tugging the pages into a semi-neat stack, Archimedes took the edges into his beak again and began to fly. Due to the weight and the difficulty of keeping the pages together, Archimedes was less coordinated and sluggish. It was from the moment of lapse that the man stuck his hand out and grabbed the dove with one, constricting fist. 

Archimedes dropped the pages, now trying to wiggle free and bite the strangers hand. Unfortunately, the man wore gloves, protecting him from the sharp pecks. The man shoved Archimedes into the bird cage, and prior to leaving, noticed the blueprints the bird had been carrying. He bent down, folded the sheets, and slipped them into his breast pocket. Every dove was now cooing somberly, lost at what to do. Some had heard Archimedes cry for help from the tiny cage, and clawed at the figure's head, until they were brushed aside and startled into fleeing. 

Chicken Kiev, however, made a beeline for the man, and nipped at his face upon flying at eye-level. The man jumped and swatted a hand, causing Chicken Kiev to hit the wall. The bird, in his hysteria, continued flapping. His flight was clumsy, and once the sound of the doors shutting was heard, the Kiev felt his right wing numb. 

He shrieked miserably at his broken wing, while the rest of the dove's were at a loss at the sudden change of events. They were now perched all over the messy lab, hoping that Wenzel will return shortly from berating the innocent victim of his tantrums. In the meantime, all they could do was mourn over the kidnapping of their brother.


	7. The threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the feels train

It had never occurred to Archimedes how dreadful isolation is. 

Even when living for that dull, dovery business in Germany, Archimedes always had his fellow brothers and sisters. There was always one bird speaking to another. The flock of doves where together from morning to midnight, working and sleeping together, nestled and safe among fluffy warmth. And to Archimedes woe, he realized how much he took such familiarity for granted. 

He could not see. He could barely stretch his wings out in his tiny prison. He couldn't hear his family cooing, or Wenzel playing his Violin, or the sound of medical tools being washed and put away for tonight. There was no splashing of the mop scrubbing blood off the floor, nor the scratchy old tunes of the record player. Archimedes couldn't even hear the wretched sound of the Heavy's loud, stupid voice greeting Wenzel. 

He didn't know where he was. The room was pitch black, confining, and humid. It was miserable, and the dove could only perch on the single wooden stick and close his beady little eyes. 

The bird was quickly alerted to a sharp, creaky sound. Following the single sound was a blinding, white light coming from an opened door. 

Archimedes cooed miserably, wriggling around and trying to fly, only to have his wings get stuck between the thin bars. 

The few seconds of light were cut short from the mysterious figure standing in front of Archimedes. The dark silhouette caused a long, ominous shadow to form, and the dove could only stay silent and tremble. 

"What's wrong? Hungry?" 

The bird stayed quiet, and shuffled to the edge of his cage. The figure strode lazily over to the cage, and watched the bird helplessly cover itself. 

"Do you miss your Doctor, little bird?" The figure opened the cage and inserted his hand to pet the bird, only to have his finger bit. He cursed and removed his hand, and after nursing his finger, swiftly punched the small cage. The cage did not fall off the table, but it landed on its side, causing a panicked flurry of flapping from the terrified bird. The figured chuckled at the bird's poor attempt of escape; it was pathetic, just like his owner. 

"You stupid, little, bird...Don't worry, you will meet your precious Medic one last time; and he will be seeing _you_ one last time as well," remarked the voice, leaning over the now dented cage.

"Oh just you wait. Just you _wait_. I will have your Doctor's throat slit, and you can make a happy nest once _I shoot his psychotic brains out."_

"Coo..." 

"What was that?" 

"Coo." 

_"...Mate."_

Sniper stood by the entrance of the door, blinking owlishly at the sight ahead. Soldier was hunched over, with the obvious blueprints of Medic crammed into his back pocket. He slowly entered the bunker, knowing full well how territorial Soldier is. But as boisterous as he was, Soldier made no sudden movements. He was still leaned forward, looking over his shoulder, a single eye glistening in the pitch black room. His face was devoid and it struck a nerve to the assassin. 

Years of developed eye sight and a keen sense told the Sniper that something was off. The RED Soldier was far too suspicious, being stilled in place like a deer in headlights. The American barely nudged, and Sniper slowly approached him. 

"What's that you got there?" No response was needed thanks to another 'coo' that followed. Sniper hummed. 

Finally, Soldier grinned, "Enemy plans." 

"What plans? You know you can't hide it anymore," replied Sniper, crossing his arms, "those are the Doctor's blueprints, aren't they? Right there, in your pocket." 

"So you caught on to his trap as well?" Asked the Soldier, tone jittery and apprehensive. 

Sniper raised a brow. "What are you talking about?" 

"I know the truth." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Our Medic is not American." 

Sniper's jaw dropped. " _That's it?_ That's why you stole his blueprints-?" 

"And his bird!" 

Sniper shook his head disappointingly. "Listen mate, the Doc's not gonna be happy when he... _sigh _, he's been tearin' the walls down all over the base, asking everyone questions," Sniper walked forward again, "And as much as I question the Doc's integrity, I hate to say that he's right. Someone stole his papers."__

 _ _"Is that why you're here?" responded Soldier, turning his back to Sniper, and fumbling with setting the cage back properly.__

 _ _

"The man just grabbed Scout and began interrogatin' the kid. He's been doin' that all day, one by one. I thought he was going mad, so why not help? The bloody spook wasn't around, which is normal. But _you_ weren't, and that was odd." Sniper chuckled and gestured to the Soldier, "And it turns out I'm right." 

"He is not a true born American. To think we trusted him! What do you think that damn Fritz has been doing to us! Maybe implanting a mind control drug in our heads, or poisoning pills. It could be a whole heap of sneaky business; maybe he was the real Spy all along," He turned and marched over to Sniper, grinning wickedly, "Luckily, I have had personal experience with killing German's, and this one is a wimpy little nurse, no less!" 

"Do _not_ start pickin' fights with him Soldier. The Doc is _pissed off_. It's best you hand those over to me, lest you get in deep water," lectured Sniper, inches away from the Jane Doe's face. Soldier's head hung low, eyes hidden from the shadows of his over-sized helmet. It made Sniper feel all the more taller, but he didn't let his guard down. The Soldier was acting off. The Australian kept his composure, and waited for Soldier to hand over the blueprints. 

Another thought came across Sniper, and he quickly added, "And you're giving me the bird. Honestly, his bird? Crikey you were really upset weren't you? You should be grateful I found you first..." 

Soldier pulled the Medic's blueprints out, and held them tightly for a moment. "Why are these Nazi papers so important?" 

"I don't bloody know! I'm just trying to prevent the Doc' from dissectin' our brains! Oh-give me that!" Sniper impatiently snatched the papers from Soldier's hands. After sticking the pages in his vest, he made his way to the table, where he saw the Medic's dove tremble and coo. Sniper tsked softly, having a soft spot for animals. As he reached for the little cage, he gasped. 

Frozen, and with a hitched breath, he looked down at the crimson head of a shovel protruding from his stomach. A red spot began to spread on his shirt, and his legs bucked. He fell to his knees, weak but conscious enough to feebly attempt at putting pressure on the open wound. 

"What are you- _GAH!_ " Sniper's scream died off as the handle of the shovel was fiercely twisted, and the shovel plunged deeper. The Sniper could barely keep himself propped up on his elbows. His limbs quaked under the weight of his benumbed body, his nostrils flared, and his mouth was wide open and dripping with saliva. 

With a foot on his back, the pressure forced Sniper face-first into the ground, and allowed the shovel to savagely rip out from the open wound. Sniper cracked an eye open, peaked up, and exhaled with a dropped face. Goosebumps arose from his skin, and his hands and toes curled apprehensively. His mouth kept opening and closing, wanting to call out the shocking image above him, but unable to make any other noise besides his dying, croaked breaths. 

With 4 swift blows to the back of his skull, the Sniper's vision went dark, and the room even darker as the doors closed shut. The Medic's bird kept making panicked noises, and the Sniper could only release a choked gurgle. He closed his eyes, groaning at the warm trickle of blood seeping from his bludgeoned head, and hoped that respawn would be quick. He had to let the team know of his discovery right away; he was just worried he wouldn't get to the Medic in time. With that final thought, the Sniper's corpse faded with a cloud of smoke, and the system went to work on reconstructing the body. 

Meanwhile-during the Sniper's trip to spawn- the Medic had paused on his way to the medical lab. Heavy nearly bumped into the German, but stopped dead in his tracks. He's been following Medic everywhere, and has had to pull the Doctor back at least two times when a fight seemed ready to ensue. The Doctor had gone around the base wildly, his first victim having been an unsuspecting Scout. From then he's personally walked to each of the mercs room and interrogated them; from specific locations they've been at, to the time at said locations. It frightened Heavy to see how tricky the Medic was. He was a keen individual, but Medic was deceptively good at questioning and making you tongue tied (Heavy wouldn't be surprised if the Doctor could cheat Death with that smart mouth of his). 

"I haven't spoken to Sniper or Soldier!" 

"Or Spy." 

"How could I miss that! And I hadn't seen them either! I can't go back now-" 

"Doktor," began Heavy, grabbing the Medic's shoulder, "Doktor stop. Why would they have papers?" 

"I have to make _sure_ that's not the case. Ohohoho, especially Spy! Of course, the one person that can disappear out of thin air is not present today.

__

"I keep telling you to check lab! You leave and don't check," he easily pushed the annoyed Medic forward with a single hand. "Go and look again. _SLOWLY_ this time; please be patient Doktor." 

"Unbelievable..." gasped Medic, not bothering to fight back the brute force pushing him. "Fine! but I want you to take your bird and leave; I need to be," he paused to open the doors to the lab. 

"Alone..." 

Medic stopped dead at the sight before him. Heavy looked over his head at the state of the laboratory. It was a disaster. Broken glass, feathers, and unknown chemicals and liquids littered the entire floor. Tools were scattered, papers bitten and shredded, a chair somehow knocked over, light bulbs cracked, and before Medic could make any exclamation, his focus was on the groups of doves conveniently perched on the center operating table.  

He wordlessly made his way to the dove's, the crunching of glass and squelch of organs punctuated with each step. 

His blue eyes scanned each dove slowly, and Heavy couldn't believe that the group of doves seemed to behave with _guilt_ , as if they were naughty puppies. Heavy didn't think doves could express themselves this way.  

"Well? What is the meaning of this?" Snapped Medic harshly, gesturing to the ruined lab.  Heavy blinked at the sight of Medic eyeing his doves and making accusations...the Doktor knew his birds could not speak, yes? 

The answer seemed to be "no" as the Medic drummed his left foot to the floor multiple times and crossed his arms, wordlessly scrutinizing each bird. The silent flock began a soft chorus of coos and Medic threw his head back. 

"Do not _lie_ to me! Why is there a mess? Someone explain, I want names! _Schnell!_ " Medic waltzed around the nervous group like a rambling detective. Unsatisfactorily, the Medic proceeded to make a roll call. 

"Euclid? René? Ramanujan?" Each bird pulled it's heads up and flew quickly to the Medic's shoulders. Heavy kept quiet in the background, confused at the ordeal. Medic frowned, still quiet as the birds cooed into his ears, until he jerked his shoulders, causing the birds to fly up to the rafters. Heavy assumed they were off the hook. 

The 8 birds on the operating table waited for the Medic to call them. "Amalie, niels, Möbious." The next group of birds flew onto the Medic, this time one on each shoulder, and one sitting on his head. Heavy looked back at the table, then to his Medic, who also let the birds fly away. 

"Plücker, Sylvester, and Sofia, come here bitte." The next trio of doves joined him. Heavy quickly noted the remaining doves. The Medic had a dozen of birds. If that's true, then one is missing. 

"Archimedes, Volterra, Ediltrudis ," concluded the Medic. Only two doves approached him. He took both with each wrist, glared for a few seconds, before gently flicking and letting them fly off. 

"Archimedes! Come out right now!" He exclaimed to the air. All the dove's were cooing nonstop to each other. "Archimedes!" Called the Medic again, voice more tense the second time calling. Archimedes never showed up. One dove came down from the closest shutter and onto the Medic's shoulder again. 

"What is it Ediltrudis?

Ediltrudis cooed to her owner, and the Medic's face became anxious. 

"Oh no... _mein gott._ Oh no..." uttered Medic. Heavy could only keep quiet. Was the Medic... _talking_ to his birds? Oh no, Heavy heard a rumor about this in the base. He tried to keep his cool; people talk to their pets, right? 

"Is there anything else? Tell me," begged the Medic, holding Ediltrudis up to eye level. The Heavy simply hung his head in defeat. 

The female dove cooed and hopped off the Medic to fly around the laboratory. Medic's eyes followed the bird. She flew to the entrance, made spastic turns in the air, and then landed to the tiled floors with wobble little feet. Heavy couldn't believe the bird was actually conveying information to the Medic. Were these birds altered in some way? How has the Medic been able to train his birds as if they were dogs?

Ediltrudis looked up at her owner, and pointed underneath the operating table. 

Medic got to knees and crawled beneath the table. Lifting the plastic covers up, he gasped a second time, whispering a faint _'Gott in Himmel'_ under his breath. 

"Doktor, what is it?" asked the Heavy, walking towards the bent Doctor, and hunched over in case the Medic needed help. 

Heavy watched the Medic's arms wiggle a bit, until he succeeded at his task, shimmied out and sat up on his heels. His gloved hands were cupped together, and upon standing up, opened his hands. 

Heavy couldn't believe his eyes. "Chicken Kiev!" he exclaimed. 

Chicken Kiev began peeping miserably, with a bent, ruffled wing that he was attempting to move, only for it jut awkwardly. Heavy felt his big heart nearly burst; his poor little bird was hurt, and it broke the Russians resolve. He lifted his hand, but stopped mid air, uncertain and worried he'd end up hurting the injured Robin even more. 

Heavy looked up at the Doctor and was even more surprised. The Medic looked like he was torn between feeling grieved and eerily detached. It reminded the Russian of how close the Doctor was with his birds; it'd only make sense he would feel the same way with other feathered creatures. 

His face ultimately became stony, and the Medic made haste towards the sink against the wall of his infirmary. Heavy moved away, perturbed and sensing it was best for the Medic not to be disturbed. The Medic grabbed a nearby cloth, placed it on the table, and rested Chicken Kiev on it. He carefully held the robin in place and analyzed the state of the injury. 

"I do not see blood; at least an infection is not a concern," mumbled the Medic, relieved. 

"I thought you were Doktor for people?" Asked the Heavy. 

Medic huffed, face less rigid, "I have owned birds for many years, you'd be surprised how easy it is for them to injure a wing..." Medic reached into the cabinets and pulled out a roll of bandage. "The bones are weak, and then they cannot fly well, " Medic's voice faltered a bit. Heavy moved closer, hand ghosting over the Medic's shoulder, having a sudden urge to comfort him- but pausing when the Medic pulled out a scalpel from another set of drawers (not taking his eyes off the Chicken Kiev). 

"And you must take matters into your own hands," he continued, cutting out a strip of bandage and holding the robin with one hand. The Medic proceeded to wrap the tape around Chicken Kiev's body, ensuring the tape is secured under his wing. 

With a shaky sigh, the Medic released the Robin, who was no longer making pained sounds. The little bird stood still, hopping around every now and again, fully bandaged. Heavy smiled. "Doktor, you did it! Thank you." 

Heavy tilted his head, and found his Medic the compete opposite. His face was devoid, sunken, and he stared at his hands. 

"...Someone took my papers," he muttered softly, "And now, my Archimedes is gone." 

"Doktor..." the Heavy gently squeezed the Medic's shoulder, stepping a little close. A peculiar silence grew between the two, and the Medic pinched the bridge of his nose. The German moved away, unresponsive to the hand comforting him, and stood awkwardly in the middle of his lab, exasperated. 

"Doktor, it is okay," began the Heavy, wishing his English was more eloquent. "I promise, maybe not so bad. Maybe paper is not gone, and maybe tiny bird just leave; not first time Archimedes go." 

Medic slowly looked up at the Heavy, expression still neutral, but steeled the more Heavy spoke.

"You don't understand! My birds do not just fly away! Archimedes is gone, he's gone..." rambled Medic woefully, running his hand through his scalp, "I swear, he does not leave like this. Of course someone would kidnap him! 

"How?" 

Medic rolled his eyes, "I was _just_ told that he was taken! Didn't you see Ediltrudis explain?" 

_"The bird told you,"_ asked the Heavy, more to himself, to try and grasp what the Doctor is saying. 

"I can't believe this! This is worst then I could have imagined! No one knows who it was, and if Kiev had a broken wing, what of Archimedes? Oh Gott, what if he's hurt? Why did I leave the lab? Scheiße, I should have locked the doors!" 

Heavy had no idea what to do. The Doctor was getting more antsy and he didn't know what to say. Finally, the Heavy spoke up, "Doktor please, is just bird, relax." 

_"...Just a bird?"_ rebuked Medic, venomously. Heavy felt if eyes could kill, he'd be dead where he was standing. Medic waltzed towards Heavy, fuming. 

"It's not some _toy_ you can throw out! _'Just a bird'_ , ack! I can't believe you!" An accusatory finger pointed directly at Heavy's face. "And I'm sure, if I didn't have you following me everywhere, I could have found my papers and Archimedes would not be missing! Nothing would have stopped me except for your _incessant demands_ ," he hissed out. 

"You don't even know if run away! You don't know if paper's stolen! Stop acting mad and think for a moment Doktor!" contested Heavy, disliking the Medic's frazzled behavior. 

"Did I NOT just tell you that Ediltrudis told me-" 

"Doktor that is crazy! Am sorry but crazy! Bird tell you this? Cannot believe this! Talking to birds!?" Replied Heavy, voice risen and getting irked that this was an actual bickering. 

" _'Crazy?'_ Oh my, I've had worst insults then that," chuckled Medic, eyes wide and livid. "Think what you like then," concluded Medic, "Go on, think I'm some crazy old man! Words mean nothing, and _this?_ This is a pointless argument, and you have _wasted_ my time." 

Heavy felt his anger rising. He was going to raise his voice, maybe leave the lab all together, until he heard the faintest words escape the Medic. 

_"...You of all people"_. 

Heavy's annoyance faltered at that. _"You of all people"_. A sad pang hit him at hearing the Medic's dejected tone. Medic looked everywhere besides the large man himself. He mused in his native language, a continued string of words that hinted of stress. 

Heavy's shoulders slumped pitifully. He adored this Doctor, as a friend, and secretly, hopefully, more then that (if the Medic reciprocated). This was the man he fought with and died with. The man that would cut open his chest, and vividly explore the expanse of pulsating organs and flowing blood. The man he shielded bullets from with his own, larger frame, and in return, be promised of life and healing. Jokes and dinner dates and confessions; it all seemed like a blur in comparison to right now. 

The Heavy Weapons' Guy respected and cherished this quirky, innovative man. And it broke his heart to see him... _disappointed._ And it was worsened with the fact that Heavy really couldn't understand. He knew the Medic loved his birds; it was uncanny at times but the Heavy didn't mind, since it made the Doctor happy. He also knew the Doctor was quick to excite, and prone to impatience from said enthusiasm. He knew this now from watching the Doctor grab miscellaneous objects from his desk and stuffing them in his lab coat. 

"I don't want you following me," stated Medic, walking with a straight back and lifted chin. 

_'Say something'_ thought Heavy, watching the Medic near the exit. _'Tell him it's a misunderstanding. Tell him you don't think he's crazy. Don't ruin this; don't let him leave. Don't lie to yourself, you know you love him,'_ he told himself, unsure of what to say. That last statement echoed in his mind, making his hands curl up and tremble with a churn of emotions. 

However, the moment Medic placed his hand on the double doors, he was suddenly pushed back on his behind from a vehement force. 

" _MEDIC! MEDIC!_ " Screamed a voice from outside. Hysterical banging and a strong push later, the Sniper barged in unannounced, nearly ripping the hinges off one of the doors. He looked _horrible_. He was sweating bullets and was frantically jumping around. When spotting the confused Medic on the floor, the Sniper made a beeline for the German, lifting him up with ease, grabbing his shoulders, and shaking him with berserk motions. 

"Medic, dear God! You have to follow me!" He hollered to the Medic's face, "That bloody Soldier thinks you're a Nazi and took your papers! He has them! And the bird! He's got your bloody bird too! The lunatic just _killed me!_

"Wait, w-what!?" shrieked Medic, trying to squirm out of Sniper's grip, but to no avail. 

"The crazy wanker found out you weren't American...didn't go so well," panted Sniper, trying to sound more coherent. "He killed me and sent me back to 'spawn; ya should have kept him on those drugs Doc..." 

The Medic stared blankly for a few seconds, before understanding the words spoken, and feeling a vein about to pop. 

"That... _schweinhund_ ," growled the Doctor. He fixed his glasses and tie, and nodded, "Take me to him." 

Heavy quickly moved forward, "Doktor wait! I come with you. Soldier is strong, might hurt you." 

Medic scoffed. "I don't need your _help_ , mein freunde. I will deal with this personally," voiced the Medic determinedly, "He has my belongings; it will be but a swift lecture." 

The Heavy was anguished while the Medic speedily went to grab his bonesaw. Concern blossomed in the Heavy's chest, and he couldn't stay quiet, despite uncertainties. 

_"Wenzel,"_ called Heavy. 

Medic stopped in his tracks, frowned, and turned around. 

"...I care about you." 

"Do not say my name out loud, bitte." 

And with that, Medic walked out. Sniper, who was briefly confused at the exchange of words, quickly followed the German, and escorted him to their delusional teammate. Heavy was left alone in the messy lab. The Doktor's sharp heels clicked down the hallway, echoing, and slowly dying out. 

Heavy shook his head. He couldn't believe the Medic's behavior. The Russian looked at the flock of eyes peering down from the rafter's. The Doves were silent the entire time. Heavy chuckled. It's as if they could read the atmosphere. 

Heavy sat down on a nearby stool, watching Chicken Kiev jump around happily on the desk he was left on. He hummed softly, pleased to see his little birdied less injured. He wondered how Chicken Kiev got a broken wing, and how the lab was destroyed in the first place. 

"I make your papa angry," began Heavy to the crowd of Doves, "I am sorry," he said softly, watching Chicken Kiev attempt to climb his hand.

The Heavy figured his Doctor would not want to see him once returning from his session with the Soldier. This only troubled the Heavy even more so. He gave the benefit of the doubt and assumed the man was simply prideful of his patriotism. But to kill a comrade and steal belongings, just because of different cultures? Heavy didn't want to believe it. Especially since the Soldier seemed... _friendly_ at times. 

Heavy sat alone for a few moments before finally sighing and standing up. He carefully cupped Chicken Kiev in his hands, and petted the bandaged bird. "Let's go back Chicken Kiev," began the Heavy, "You have big day, da? Go to cage now..." 

Heavy decided to ignore the Medic's request, and visit him after putting Chicken Kiev away. He couldn't get the paranoid feeling of Medic getting in a fight with the Soldier. He knew Medic was not weak, but against Soldier? Heavy was skeptical. 

Suddenly, another set of knocks were pounding on the double doors outside. Heavy rose a brow, and made his way to the doors. 

_"MEDIC!"_ Cried a voice. 

Heavy looked out the glassed windows and grimaced. 

"Heavy, open up!" Yelled...Sniper. 

Heavy blinked multiple times; was he seeing things? 

"Oi, big guy! Is the Doc' with you? Tell him it's urgent!" 

Heavy opened the doors and quickly responded, "You just left with Doktor." 

Sniper paused, and mimicked the Heavy's puzzled look. "...No I didn't. I just got here." 

Heavy shook his head. "No, you were HERE. Inside this room, not long ago. You tell Doktor that Soldier stole his papers and his bird, and that he kill you." 

Sniper's gaze grew petrified, "Yeah that's what happened...I was going to tell you all of that, but I just got out of spawn." 

Heavy took a few steps back, feeling a cold sweat break out as the dots connected. 

"Then..." Heavy looked down the empty hallway, "If you did not leave with Medic, then who..." He trailed off. 

_"...о нет"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking forever (and sorry if this seemed rushed), school is a drag ;;  
> next chapter or two and then its oveeeer.


	8. Time and Place

  ***ALERT. ALERT. BLU SPY IN THE BASE.***

Blaring horns and bells rang throughout the base. The Administrator's voice ever omnipresent as her sentences echoed over and over.

It was moments like this that the Heavy wished he was as swift as Scout. His stout legs failed to move faster, which didn't help his rise in panic. 

It did ease his mind, however, to hear the alarm go off. A clear sign that the Sniper had indeed ran ahead and pressed the button to alert the others. Surely, the rest of the mercenaries will be searching for the Spy now.

Unfortunately, Heavy's expectation was not met. As he passed the rec room, the Slav could hear booming screams and a string of curse words, along with objects being shattered. With silent dejection, Heavy turned the knob and opened the creaky door. Ahead of him was the center of attention- the Soldier- holding Sniper's form above his head, and mere inches from slamming the Australian into the glass coffee table. Demoman, Pyro, and Engineer were holding Soldier back, trying to voice reason to the perturbed, helmeted man.

"Mister, you better put. Him. DOWN!" Ordered Engineer angrily, tugging on Soldier's arm. Demoman held the Soldier's other arm, and kept a firm grasp on his collar. The Scot had attempted a choke hold earlier, but the Soldier wouldn’t budge, and seemed to ignore the lack of oxygen in exchange for trying to beat the Sniper to death. Pyro tugged back on the Soldier's belt, mmph-ing away, and upon noticing Heavy, raised their voice for help. 

"What is this!?" Exclaimed Heavy.

Soldier turned to look at Heavy. His face was completely _livid_ ; snarling with gritted teeth and near-bloodshot eyes. Heavy noted that Soldier had a nasty slash across his face, starting at his busted lip, ending towards his temple.

"ALL OF YOU ARE SCUM! DO YOU HEAR ME? SCUM! I WILL CONFISCATE EVERYONE'S MEDALS!"

Shaking his head, Heavy stomped over, plucked Sniper off, and set him on the ground. Before he could lunge out at Sniper again, Heavy quickly grabbed both of soldiers arms and pinned them against his sides, trapping him in a powerful bear-hug. Soldier struggled and squirmed and kicked, unable to remove his limbs from the vice grip.

"IF YOU THINK INTERROGATION TACTICS WILL BREAK THIS AMERICAN SPIRIT, THEN YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING."

"This blockhead was gonna snap the bloody Sniper like a twig," said Demo in response, stepping back and catching his breath once Heavy effectively put Soldier in place. Pyro also muttered some words, but it fell on deaf ears. 

"I was ambushed!" Gasped Soldier, hoarse voice settling with an even tone. "That Sniper is our enemy!" 

"Said the man who killed me!" Accused Sniper, adamant despite being overpowered by Soldier mere seconds ago. 

Heavy kept Soldier in place, while Engineer kept pushing Sniper away. The Texan grimaced as he got between the two screaming men. He was surprised by Sniper's voluminous voice, and the inappropriate slang that followed. 

"-I did no such thing! This kangaroo-loving nut job struck first!" 

"Bloody wanker killed me! He **killed** me and sent me to 'spawn!" 

"Fellas!" Cried out Engineer, "We can't keep fightin' like this with a Spy in the base!" 

Heavy agreed, "Engineer is right! Spy is in base! He took Doktor with him; Medic needs help!" 

"Now I don't know if the Spy has anything to do with all of _this_ ," Engineer gestured to the heated Soldier and Sniper, "But the big guy is right. We got a Spy to catch! And if he's got the Doc, then we gotta stop fighting and move out _now_." 

The room fell silent, save for piercing alarm. Getting fed up with the sound, Sniper huffed, wiped sweat off his brow, and nodded. 

"…Ok." 

Soldier straightened up and pursed his lips, "Affirmative." 

After the odd camaraderie, and the scene less tense, a series of loud footsteps rang from down the hallway. 

Suddenly, Scout barged into the room, hyper alert, and quickly locked eyes on the Soldier. Pulling his scattergun out, Scout jumped over the poker table, and stuck the barrels directly in the Soldier's face. 

"The freakin' Soldier is a Spy!" 

"What!?" Yelped Engineer. 

"The Soldier is a Spy! Medic told me!" 

"He told you? But Medic is gone!" Argued Heavy, "I was in lab with Doktor. Sniper show up and Medic go with him. Then _our_ Sniper show up after!" 

"Wait, so Sniper is the Spy?" Asked Demoman, turning to the Bushman in confusion. 

"Are you drunk mate? The Heavy just said a _different_ Sniper took the Medic," attested Sniper, "So a Spy disguised as _me_." 

"Listen guys," Said Scout, trembling to pull the trigger on Soldier, "The Doc was lookin' beat up and shit, and told me the _Soldier_ is a Spy. He said the Spy admitted he disguised as Soldier and killed Sniper!" 

"So I was right!" Exclaimed Sniper, pulling his kukri out again, "That bloody, backstabbin' Soldier is a Spy!" 

"I am NOT a Spy!" Shouted Soldier, "This is a set up! And if you boys think I'm the enemy, then I will beat you senseless until you see...that the SCOUT is Spy!" Soldier pointed at Scout. "Think about it! We settle one thing and this _maggot_ suddenly appears, ready to kill me; it's obvious!" 

" _Hell. No._ I ain't a Spy!" Shrieked Scout, "I'm tellin' you guys, Medic told me the Spy disguised as Soldier and killed Sniper!" 

"Now hold up," interrupted Engineer, "Something ain't right about all this." 

"I agree. We have a Spy standin' right in front of us, and we're doin’ _nothing_ about it," stated Sniper, glaring at Soldier. 

"Will you hush!?" Replied Engineer, pacing around. Sniper snarled, but stayed quiet. 

"So from what we've gathered- _dammit this is all kinds of strange_ \- the Spy disguised as Soldier, and killed Sniper." 

"Yes," Said Sniper. Soldier pouted. 

"And Heavy told us that Medic left with Sniper- and a couple minutes later, _this_ Sniper showed up," Engineer pointed at Sniper, "which lead to him and Soldier gettin' in a fight." 

"So we _should_ consider the Sniper to be a Spy as well!" Exclaimed Soldier. 

"But what about the Medic?" Asked Demo, "Where did he go after you saw him lad?" 

"He told me he was headin' back to his lab," Replied Scout. 

"That means Doktor escaped..." sighed Heavy, relieved. He knew Medic couldn't remain a hostage! His Doctor is strong, he surely dealt with that pesky Spy. 

"But we still have a Spy slitherin' 'round," concluded Engineer, "And it's lookin' to be someone in this here base." 

"Why are we wasting time anyways?" announced Scout, "Let's just kill Soldier and Sniper, and see if one of em turns blue!" 

Sniper turned to the Scout, "What? Why shoot me!?" 

"Ooh you'd like that, _wouldn't you?"_ Sneered Soldier, "Wanting us to blow our brains out and turn us against each other... This Scout is suspicious!" 

"So what?" Jeered the Scout, "If neither of you two turn blue, then you can kill me! And you'll see I ain't a Spy! I mean, we come back to life anyways, right? What's the big deal?" 

Sniper scoffed, "Do you really think that's a good move? We'll have to wait for 3 men to get out of 'spawn; plenty of time for the Spy to make his next move. For God Sake, the Spy could be wanting that from us, eh?" He concluded, staring each teammate down. 

Engineer grimaced. "It wouldn't surprise me if this Spy is causin' us to argue like this." 

"And we're wastin' time lettin' this Spy walk around the base," added Demoman. 

Heavy groaned in frustration. "All of you settle this then; I will check on Medic." 

Engineer reached and grabbed Heavy's shoulder. "I don't think you should leave just yet. I think we should all stick together right now, make sure no one is a Spy." 

"Actually, where's _our_ spook?" added Sniper, "You'd think he pop out any time to give us a lecture." 

"Aye, it'd be useful if he were here," Agreed Demoman, "use fire against fire to catch that bloody BLU Spy." 

"Scout," began the Texan, "You're the last person who saw the Doc. Did he tell you anything else?" 

Scout pursed his lips and thought back to his encounter with Medic. "He said his bird was missin', and found Möbius in the Soldier's bunker, but he ran away and couldn't get the bird back." 

_"Bloody hell, I forgot!"_ Exclaimed Sniper, "Before I died, Soldier had stolen the Medic's blueprints and the bird!" 

"Ugh, don't remind me," groaned Scout, recalling the Medic's brutal interrogation from earlier, "when a crazy old Doctor is rushin' at you with ‘em crazy eyes, it ain't pretty." 

"I did no such thing!" Countered Soldier, "I could care less about that Sally’s bird! Not when I have something even better!" Out of nowhere, Soldier reached into his vest, and pulled out a vicious, mouth-foaming raccoon. Everyone jumped back as the rabid ball of fur yapped and clawed at its surrounding. 

Soldier hugged the raccoon, ignorant to the chomps that the creature place on his arms and hands, and gave it a big kiss on the head. "It's just you and me Lieutenant Bites! Us against a world of commies, Australians, and hippies!" claimed Soldier. "I hereby honor you head of the raccoon's! But don't brag, or get cocky; you have a duty to uphold!" 

A horrible, dreaded realization hit the Heavy. His Medic acted the _exact same way_ with his birds. Talking and praising and chastising the animals as if it were talking back. The Heavy did not want to admit that his genius Medic had something in common with that demented Soldier. That is until remembering all the other bizarre things his Medic has done. 

"That just ain't right," muttered Engineer. 

"Mmph...mmphmmph, mmh rnngh mmh?" 

Engineer shook his head, "No Pyro, don't light everyone on fire to check who's Spy." 

"This is ridiculous! Forget the bloody raccoon. Unless the Spy is invisible right now, the only person who could be the Spy is Soldier!" Repeated the Sniper. 

"I'm with him on that," Added Scout, hopping next to Sniper, "I've got Medic's word, and he said it's the Soldier." 

Soldier would bark back his suspicions, and Sniper was quick to infuriate again. Engineer tried his hardest to remain the peacekeeper, and Demo added his 2 cents and quickly held Soldier back from getting physical. Pyro watched from a nearby couch, looking bored, but with its flamethrower on their lap. Scout jumped around, gun at hand, babbling on with his sharp tongue. 

It was normal for Heavy to stay quiet and listen. But right now, what took place in front of him was miserable. Engineer tried to be civil, but from the looks of it, they were getting no where. Heavy closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He desperately wanted to go back and see Medic. He had said awful things and wanted nothing else but to apologize to the Doctor. Apologize for doubting him, calling him crazy, and not protecting him from the disguised Spy. 

Heavy replayed the events leading up to Medic leaving with the fake Sniper, guilt rising at the disappointment in Medic's face. Does the Medic even want to see him again? Oh, how Heavy regrets insulting him! What does it matter if Medic talks to his birds?

_'Wait...'_

Heavy frowned, and recollected his thoughts once more. Prior to the Medic leaving, they argued. Medic made a role call of all his doves, and Heavy found it odd. But the Heavy watched with interest regardless. And then Medic made a comment.

_"...Someone took my papers," he muttered softly, "And now, my Archimedes is gone."_

Möbius never left the lab. _Archimedes_ was missing. 

Heavy slowly looked at the Scout in their room, a renewed sharpness in his blue eyes. He lifted his large hands and cracked his knuckles. He watched as every man in the room bickered and threatened to kill one another, going on about who the Spy could be. Demo held a smashed bottle up, Soldier was prepared to throw his raccoon like a projectile. Complete chaos for the RED team. 

It was difficult to maneuver quietly, but Heavy walked forward, with Scout unaware of the massive Slav inching behind him. The boy kept his gun at hand, waving it around, until it was easily swiped from his loose hands. 

"What the hell!? Heavy-!" 

Heavy grimaced and _bent_ the gun into a 'U' shape. Scout gaped and slumped forward. Everyone paused in arguing, watching the large man hesitantly. 

"Doktor lost papers and bird. That is why he go with fake Sniper." Heavy grabbed the front of Scout's shirt, and effortlessly lifted him in the air. Scout's legs went in different directions, as if winding up to flee the moment he was dropped. 

"But you said 'Möbius', da? 'Möbius' stay in Doktor's lab. _'Archimedes'_ is missing." 

"So what! It's a stupid fucking bird! Calm down man, I'm tellin' you what the Doc told me!" Contested Scout, "So put me down will ya!" 

Heavy brought Scout closer, nose-to-nose, fuming. Scout instantly shut up, and his eyes bulged open in silent fear. Was Heavy always this scary? Cause up close...he looked scarier then usual. And hovering in the air didn't help the boy's apprehension. 

"Doktor would not make mistake. Either you mishear Doktor, or..." Heavy tightened his grip, " _you_ are Spy, and you mix up little bird's name, hm?" 

Scout looked around wildly at his teammates. "Oh my God, oh my God, I-I'm not a Spy! I'm tellin' you-!" 

"Прости". 

Heavy placed Scout on his feet, and moved his hand's to grab the Scout's entire skull. Without hesitation, Heavy rotated Scout's head, snapping his neck in a blink of an eye. A strained gasp escaped his lips, and Scout's eyes rolled back in his sockets. Heavy released him, and everyone watched as the youngest member fell numbly to the wooden floor. 

"...You forgot to say _'oo-rah_ Heavy!" interrupted Soldier. He bent down to lift Scout's corpse up, and re-positioned the head to its natural angle. "This is how a real man breaks a neck!" With two fingers and one hand on the top of the head, Soldier released a shout. With a flick of his wrist, the Scout's head rotated in a full 360 circle _again_. Soldier grinned and dropped the body, and looked around at his teammates troubled expressions. 

"...Bloody hell, ya crazy man," Demo muttered. 

Another moment passed as everyone stared intently at the Scout's body. Instead of turning blue and French, the Scout's corpse disappeared into a puff of red smoke. 

"Scout was not a Spy!" Exclaimed Soldier, "Phew! Thank God, I love that little American!" After saying this, Soldier absentmindedly picked his nose- the Scout's blood still on his hands. 

"But if Scout wasn't a Spy, then that means he was telling the truth," stated Engineer. 

"Spy make mistake; call Archimedes 'Möbius' instead," Concluded Heavy. 

Sniper paused, and looked around nervously. "So...who did Scout talk to?' 

"Oh me mother... _Oh, don't tell me that snake disguised as the Doctor, a tricked Scout..."_ Groaned Demoman. 

"Scout said Medic was hurt!" Cried Heavy, "Spy take form of how we look, yes? Then that means Doktor is hurt right now!" 

"...WE MUST RESCUE THE MEDIC," Declared Soldier, finger out of nose and pointing ahead, immediately marching away. 

"Dammit!" growled Engineer, "That son of a bitch! God knows where he's got the Doc!" 

"Why would he take the Doctor anyways?" Asked Sniper. 

"Hell if I know! But hurry on to the roof boy! If the Spy is still in the base, _make sure he doesn't leave."_ Sniper's face hardened at the cruel tone of voice. Nodding, the Sniper also rushed out to get his weapons. 

"Pyro, you know what to do," Ordered Engineer. The Pyro hopped off the couch, stretched, and nodded as well. It seemed more animated at the command, and kept its flamethrower at hand upon leaving the room to do its Spy-checking routine.

Heavy was already stomping away before Engineer could speak to him. The Texan scrambled to chase after him. 

"Heavy!" 

"All of you tiny men, waste Heavy's time," grumbled the Heavy. 

"Aw heck...listen buddy, it was getting hectic back there. We gotta stay calm if we're gonna find the Spy-" 

"I do not care for Spy!" Remarked Heavy, turning around abruptly. Engineer bumped into him, and scrambled to backed off. "Heavy will kill little coward, but that is all. I must find my Doktor. Medic is gone, and it is my fault." Heavy turned downcast, guilt spreading in his chest. "I let Doktor go. Get Doktor mad, and leave with Spy. Now he is nowhere. What if he's hurt? Or worse?" 

"Keep it together man," Replied Engineer, shaking the Slav's forearm. "We're gonna hunt that rat down if it's the last thing we do. And we're gonna bring the Doc back too. But if we don't find him..." Engineer shrugged and sighed, "Then just remember...we signed up for this job. It's not a promise that we'll all live out this contract." 

Heavy's expression remained indignant. "Do what you want then," concluded the Texan, "Just remember, we're tryin' our best." 

Engineer went down the opposite direction, leaving Heavy alone in the hallway. Heavy could hear footsteps and yelling from each man in different areas, yet he still felt out of touch. Engineer had a point, their contracts made clear that survival was not guaranteed. The poor quality of the black and white video from day 1 repeated that statement. 

...Except Heavy paid no attention to that video. The dark room gave the Russian all the time in the world to watch the Medic from across the dim room. He, shamelessly, had his eyes on the Doktor since that first day. Was it a bit immature to do? Of course; but an old, hardened man can be spared to indulge, no? That day, the Heavy was worried someone caught him ogling the Medic. He felt as if someone was watching him that day, but for the life of him, Heavy didn't know who. The Spy was not present, the Sniper was asleep, the Demo was drunk, the Pyro was, well, Pyro...but he could _feel_ a set of eyes watching him, _scrutinizing_ him. It was terrifying, but Heavy snapped out of it eventually. If anyone wanted to argue with him, then so be it. He's the biggest, tallest man on the team; he dared any man to face him directly. 

It was best to keep moving then stand in place. Heavy rushed back to the lab, recalling what the disguised BLU Spy had told Scout. Considering the earlier events of Medic’s blueprints being stolen, there was a clear hint that this was intel gathering. The BLU Spy may already have his hands on the Medic’s work, but the lab felt like the most logical place to head. 

“Don’t bother”, quipped a Sly voice, “You know you won’t find anything.” 

Heavy came to a halt. From over his shoulder, the sleek and poised RED Spy leaned against a wall, arms crossed, and cigarette between lips. 

“Where have you been?” Asked Heavy, moving to face the Spy. 

“Watching and waiting; unlike the rest of these imbeciles,” replied Spy. “Time is of the essence for you, my friend; our situation is a delicate one.” 

Heavy kept a still gaze, before tilting his head, “I hope you are not fake Spy.” 

Spy chuckled, “Of course not! I am nowhere near as reckless as my rival,” He stopped smiling, face more tense. “Follow me. I’ll explain everything and bring you to the Docteur, but we must leave immediately.” 

Before Heavy could reply, Spy swiftly spun around and began jogging away. Heavy nearly stumbled as he caught up with the Spy. The RED pair, in contrast to their teammates positioned above, were descending down a flurry of old, creaky stairs. 

“Our Docteur has been silent about his little experiment,” Huffed the Spy, looking over at the Slav behind him. “The man has been keen on a peculiar invention. A contraption meant to affect our physical prowess. A risky experiment that the human body may not endure due to high levels of voltage and contortion. Prior to all of this, I was going to confront the Medic myself for this”. 

“How do you know all of this?” 

Spy rolled his eyes, “You’re kidding. It is my _job_ to know what happens within the team. 2 steps ahead, non?” Spy could sense the glare radiating from Heavy and sighed. “Yes, yes, I looked through his documents, what did you expect? To not be wary of my surroundings is disregarding my occupation”. 

“Medic tell me about plan. Not everything, but was going to talk to me- until he learn that papers are missing”. 

“He must trust you then,” Said Spy, holding back a cheeky grin. He couldn’t help himself. Teasing the painfully evident pair was hilarious. Heavy mumbled softly in disagreement. Spy clicked his teeth. 

The lights grew dimmer as they descended further into the building. Heavy had to grab onto the rails to not trip, while Spy knew the directions like the back of his hand. At the end of the oddly long stairs, dark and dingy hallways were met. Spy motioned for them to move forward. Every single door was old and wooden, with the exception of an out-of-place, large, metal door to the right. 

“…The Soldier’s bunker,” whispered Spy, answering before Heavy could ask. The metal door was open, causing Spy to scoff. “That fool did not even try blocking the door. This will should be an easy task”. 

Spy placed both hands on the massive, metal door. It barely budged, causing him to grimace; the BLU Spy must be a bit stronger then he anticipated. It would explain how he was able to escape while lugging another man with him. 

Heavy stepped forward and slammed the door open with one hand, hardly patient to deal with Spy’s slow progress. The Frenchman rose a brow at the brute force, but continued inside. 

“There,” stated Spy, pointing to the bookshelf against a wall. 

Spy ran forward and began attempting to pull the empty shelves down. Heavy was going to aid, until a coo rang out from the corner of the cold, empty bunker. With a gasp, the Slav locked eyes to the concrete floor. Next to a messy table and dried-up droplets of Sniper’s blood, was a small cage, knocked over sideways, with Archimedes balled up and cooing. The flashing, white eyes of the Soldier’s raccoon sanctuary watching the white dove from afar. 

_“Archimedes!”_ Shrieked Heavy, rushing to kneel down and grab the cage, scaring the raccoon's away with his massive presence. 

“We have more pressing matters then a mere bird, Heavy!” Reprimanded Spy, before effectively pushing the bookshelf over, revealing a giant, man-sized hole in the wall. 

“The Spy escaped through this hole. If my memory serves me right, then this should lead us outside, and to the location of the Medic.” 

Heavy opened the door to the little cage, peering inside. His heart melted at the sight of the frightened bird inside. In return, Archimedes stared back at Heavy, blinking multiple times, and peering out from its fluffy form. Heavy lightly took hold of the bird, clasping Archimedes in his hands. Heavy was surprised that the dove wasn’t biting him while stroking his feathers. If anything, Archimedes kept his gaze solely on Heavy the entire time. The Slav could still feel the bird’s trembling. 

Heavy carefully settled Archimedes on his shoulder. Even more shocking, the dove stayed put while perched on the Heavy. Spy rolled his eyes. 

“Should we not let team know where Spy is?” Asked the Heavy, as he followed Spy into the cramped hole in a wall. Heavy could feel Archimedes cling tighter to him. 

“You’d think that was a smart choice,” Began Spy, using a handkerchief to wipe the sweat away. Both the men began to feel the hot, humid air suffocate them as they traversed the trenches. “However, this is not as simple as killing the BLU Spy. I am certain that working together, we can kill him. But if we are not careful, well…” 

“What?” Asked Heavy. 

“Then Medic will die.” 

Silence grew between the two until Heavy spoke again. “I was scared that Spy torture Medic, hurt him. Do not want Doctor to die but…won’t respawn save him?” 

“The BLU Spy knew this ahead of time Heavy,” Lectured Spy, “Why do you think he elaborated the fiasco with Soldier and Sniper.” 

This caught Heavy’s attention. “You know what happened?” 

Spy nodded. “Oui. The BLU Spy managed to steal Medic’s blueprints at some point in the morning. I am unsure of the exact time…But what I do know is that it was his goal to make Soldier the scapegoat. He disguised as that buffoon, killed Sniper, disguised as the bushman, and had his way with the Medic _and_ the blueprints. 

“Ach…how complicated,” Rumbled Heavy in amusement. 

“And that is my problem,” said the Spy. The narrow path suddenly diverged, and Spy quickly directed them to go left. “I will not lie…I’m confused,” Admitted Spy in spite, “It all made sense. Our Medic would create a device that will give us an effective edge in battle. It was obvious that BLU would send their Spy to steal the blueprints, given their losing streak.” 

“-And it was my fault this happened,” Interrupted Heavy. “Maybe we find out sooner that Sniper was Spy. I could have prevented this.” 

“What’s done is done. So long as you are taking action now, that is what matters. Fretting on the past is useless,” Replied Spy, in an attempt at indirectly consoling the Russian. “Although his goal was to gather our intelligence, even I am stuck on his _real_ motives. You see, he did not need to take Medic with him. He was alone with the Docteur while disguised as Sniper, remember? All he had to do was kill the Medic, and he could leave with the blueprints. Yet…He indeed complicated this. I don’t understand why he kidnapped Medic.” 

“Why that is does not concern me,” Replied Heavy briskly, “I will show no mercy to that coward”. 

“Well, I’m happy to your enthusiasm, but we cannot let feelings get in the way,” Spy paused, looking around the dim tunnels, and made a right at the next set of paths. “This is a stealth mission. If BLU Spy is doing what I think he will do, then respawn will not save Medic if he is killed”. 

“What!?” Exclaimed Heavy, deep voice echoing off stone walls. He grabbed Spy’s shoulder to look directly at him. “How is that possible? I know we will not live forever but, how can this happen?” 

“That…is confidential,” Replied Spy slowly, stepping back. He could see the rise in panic for the Heavy Weapon’s Guy. Spy rubbed his temples, wishing he could brush off the other man’s despair. 

“Listen to me,” He started, “The other Spy does NOT know of our presence. If we’re lucky, he may still assume the team is distracted by the Soldier issue- maybe even assume some of us have killed the other”. He took a firm grasp at Heavy’s forearm in confidence, “With the element of surprise, we can get the Docteur to safety before we finish off the Spy. But _please_ , just trust me when I say we must move!” 

Heavy inhaled deeply, and nodded. Another coo rings out, and Heavy pets the dove under his beak. “…Alright”. 

Spy nodded, patted the Heavy, and the pair ran off with a faster pace. It was beginning to irk Heavy with how maze-like the tunnels were. It’s impressive that Spy knows where he’s going. But as the Frenchman said, he must put his trust in the rogue. The Russian needed to concentrate with whatever laid ahead. Neither man knew what would happen once they exited. Whether they will catch the Spy, or if Medic can be found. 

“Ssh…” hushed the Spy. Heavy stopped to look over the Spy. Up ahead beamed shining rays of sunlight. The exit was up ahead. 

Spy crouched a bit, and with delicate footwork and maneuvers, walked towards the exit without a single noise. Heavy tried his best in copying the Spy’s movements, proving to be a challenge. He was far to big to be of any stealth use. 

Heavy could also feel Archimedes peck at his cheek, causing Heavy to stare suspiciously at the bird. When he looked at the bird, Archimedes returned the gaze, and cooed again. Spy cursed inwardly at the Heavy’s decision to bring the bird with them. Heavy could only sigh; he had no desire to deal with this dove bullying him yet again. Archimedes cooed again. And again. And soon a string of coos and odd head bobbing ensued. 

”Please, be quiet,” Whispered Heavy, petting the dove’s head. “I promise, I will bring you to your Doktor, ok? Doktor miss you and wants to see you too, but you must be quiet.” Suddenly, Archimedes quieted down. Heavy blinked his success in commanding the bird. 

No surprise there, Heavy wants to see his Doktor too.

* 

* 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooo~ SORRY. I had a MASSIVE writers block. I kept drafts and outlines, going back and forth, trying to figure out the direction the fic is heading, and more. Also, the last chapter posted was before school started so um...yeah, college kinda got in the way. I decided to spare myself and cut this chapter in half (It was going to be much longer but I'd rather organize this- so next chapter is the real "climax"?). So by my estimate, there's only 2 chapters left (I feel like I said this before lol. I'm sorry im such a dingus). 
> 
> I like this fic, but I REALLY wanna finish this, cause I wanna write more Red Oktoberfest fics, and I guess I procrastinated more then I should. This was suppose to be a chill, fluffy fanfic and here I go complicating shit lol. I have a multichapter fic in mind that I have to think about though. But yeah, sorry for the wait again. And thank you to all the nice comments and kudos ;; I'm so happy I got to update this fic, but I do apologize if anything felt rushed (especially at the end (ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER. NO!)). And on my bday no less lol.


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